Mass Effect: Those We've Forgotten
by Dr.Compass
Summary: Many may not truly trust the Terrans either for political reason or biological, but at least they've established some record. What throws the pacing off for all members across the board is when a group of newcomers appears. Who are they? What are they after? Are they the long lost Protheans? Or something different? Part 3 of Distanced.
1. Chapter 1: Family Reunion

(A/N): Jesus, this is a long one. Once again, I greatly appreciate any pointers showing that I messed up on the canon at some point. I'm aware that I'm taking some liberties as is granted by fanfic writing (for example trying to put Saren in a more favorable spotlight), but I still want to remain as faithful to the canon while trimming some bits to make way for the Augs' story and cut out bits of the canon I feel are illogical. Furthermore, if I do jump too much around during this chapter, and chapters afterward (though I was already jumping around with Fredrick and Saren), do understand I still want to catch up to the core of the ME franchise: the starting trilogy.

Chapter 1: Family Reunion

 _The First Contact War, or the 314 Relay Incident depending on how you look at it, was a big unnecessary clusterfuck that could've been easily avoided. It was ultimately surprising to me when I first set foot onto ShanXi the people I had encountered there. At first, we were confused as to who they were, why they didn't follow telecommunication protocol, or why the Turians were keeping them suppressed. When the wormhole over Khonsu closed, the First Generation presumed those left on Earth quickly died out due to factors caused by overpopulation and globalization, or were in a different Galaxy all together. Little did we realize how close they still were after so long._

* * *

 **April 9, 2157**

 **11 hrs/40 min/02 sec Local Time**

 **Space Surrounding Relay 314**

 _"Spirits, I wish I could be sleeping in right now,"_ a Serviceman Pribus Galius thought to himself. It was his second year in the service, and he was currently positioned on patrol, keeping an eye out for smugglers. He stared sleepily at the long-range scanner, watching it repeatedly show the same blips representing their ships, just like he had for the last few hours.

"Hey Galius, you alright?" Senior Serviceman Puter Orientis asked, walking up behind him.

Galius quickly straightened up in his seat and snapped back awake. "Yes Senior Serviceman Orientis, systems are running and not a single unidentified ship in the area."

Orientis put a rations bar on the desk next to Galius. "You look like hell. Did you even sleep last shift?"

"Barely, thanks for lunch," Galius answered as he picked up the ration bar. "Anything new?" he asked back as he began to unwrap the bar.

"That's what I'm here to ask. Is there anything on the scanners? We've been up and down the sector for weeks on end, and all the shipmaster says is, 'we have to be vigilant!'" Orientis answered, lightly flailing his own arms to put emphasis on his own frustration.

Galius turned back to his station. "Well, the Terrans have been putting extra pressure on pirates for the last dozen cycles or so…" Galius' tone died out when he noticed new signals picking up near the inactive Relay 314. These ships didn't have any IFFs, the eezo signal was strangely unique, and did have any known ship model. "What in- Shipmaster Achatus! I've found something!"

Achatus quickly strode over to the serviceman's side to look at the monitor. "What is it? Has it been confirmed as a pirate group?"

"Unknown, sir. The ship is completely lacking in any mandatory telecommunication requirements. Even pirates would have their own to prevent friendly fire," Galius said skeptically. "They're incredibly close to the inactive Relay, sir. Should we open fire?"

"Not yet, open coms, see if they respond."

Galius quickly reached for the other side of the panel, making a few quick motions to open coms, then began to speak. "Unidentified vessel, this is the _Tranquility_. You are violating the Citadel Mandate-6116, requiring all groups to receive official permission before activating a Relay. Repeat, you are violating Mandate-6116. Please respond, or we will open fire."

The _Tranquility_ swiftly made its approach to the unidentified ships surrounding the relay. Some had even deployed landing parties on the structure, and were making procedures to initiate the structure. After attempting to contact the unidentified ships on all normal frequencies, one hundred and twenty seconds had passed, and no attempt from the receiver was made to respond. "They've had their chance, open fire. We can't risk having whatever is on the other side come through. Not while we're still unprepared."

"Unidentified vessels, you have officially violated Mandate-6116 and have failed to respond to our call. We have been granted permission to attack your ships," Galius said as he switched the coms over to the onboard intercom. "The intercom is yours, shipmaster."

Achatus leaned over and spoke. "All units, this is Shipmaster Achatus. By Citadel Law, I have granted permission to attack unidentified vessels that are attempting to activate a Relay without official permission. Report to your stations."

The unsuspecting interlopers were sent scrambling to their ships either to be quickly blown up, or crippled as they made their way to the other active Relay within the system. The ships did have some barrier capabilities, but their strength seemed to be more capable of withstanding space debris rather than high-explosive projectiles. Of the original seven spotted, only one made it through the Relay, and heavily damaged. "Sir, we've been unable to disable three of the foreign vessels before they've left the system. Orders?" Galius asked.

The elder Turian scratched at the side of his mandible in annoyance. "Check the disabled ships, and open communications back to Palaven. This encounter mustn't go unnoticed."

* * *

 **June 17, 2157**

 **09 hrs/12 min/44 sec**

 **Specter Training Center, Citadel Station**

"Any idea what' this is all about?" Fredrick asked. He'd just gotten word that morning that Saren was being called into action to be reinstated as a commander.

"I don't know. All they've told me so far is that it's a bunch of tribal invaders from outside of the Galaxy, or something of similar description. Their technological capabilities are rather advanced, but nothing we haven't seen before. Other than that, I have no idea what we are facing. Supposedly, they aren't as advanced as we are, but then I don't understand why they would need me for this job." Saren was packing all the equipment he'd been using for the duration of his training under Fredrick, including the Terran SMG. As far as Fred was concerned, Saren had learned much under his oversight.

"So, will you be continuing under my training once this is done, or will you be directly granted Specter status?" Fredrick asked again.

"I'm not sure. The council seems to be happy with our handywork. But like my superiors and what we are opposing, they're leaving me much in the dark about what their future plans for me are. At least it'll be nice to see Desolas again. I hear he's been promoted to general by now," Saren said as he threw his small supply sack over his shoulder and the two exited the room and began to make their way to the front lobby.

"So, they'll be essentially delaying your graduation till the issue is dealt with? And what if the issue proves to be a greater galactic threat than anticipated?" Fredrick asked as they walked down the stairwell.

"You know how it is, the council always has their dirty secrets, and who knows why they decide the things they do," Saren answered as the two entered the main lobby. Outside was a small squad of Turian soldiers waiting to retrieve Commander Arterius and ship out to the fight. "Well, it's been an honor fighting along side you, Fredrick. I really hope this will end quickly," Saren said, shaking Fredrick's hand and bidding farewell.

"Godspeed, Saren Aretrius. May fortune smile brightly upon you," Fredrick saluted in return. Fredrick watched as the young Turian disappear towards the docks.

* * *

 **June 18, 2157**

 **02 hrs/36 min/56 sec Local Time**

 **Orbit over ShanXi, Turian Vessel** _ **Honorbound**_

Saren got off the shuttle, stepping right back into his shoes as a commander. It felt so strange having been independent with Fredrick for so long, only to step right back into the mechanical routine of being in the Turian military. He'd heard rumors at first that the forces out on the offensive were fighting off some lost detachment of Protheans, but now word came that they were fighting something much more sinister.

After exiting the ship he arrived in, he made his way to the back of the hange and entered the elevator, going up by several decks. He quickly made his way to the bridge, where he expected his brother Desolace to be. He exited the elevator and made his way into the bridge, still bustling with life. He scanned the room twice, only to find no trace of his brother.

Because his status as a barefaced-Turian, he could relate to Fredrick, feeling how others would instinctively distrust him, regardless of how he established himself. Out of the whole bridge, he couldn't find a single Turian without a facial clan marking, making him feel increasingly uneasy. Eventually, he approached one of the deck officers. "Sergeant, I'm looking for General Desolas, perhaps you could tell me where he is?"

The sergeant saluted. "Commander Arterius, the general is currently looking over an autopsy of one of the invaders," he's currently in the morgue giving a personal description.

"Thank you, soldier. I'll be on my way," he thanked. He exited the same way he came and went to the far back of the deck where the medbay and morgue was. As he entered the morgue, he saw his brother Desolas talking with a female medical officer.

"-from both accounts of DNA tracing from Prothean ruins, neither these things nor the Terrans could possibly be-," he began to hear from the medical officer.

"Then what are they?" Desolas interrupted.

"I already told you, General. I'm unsure. Perhaps we should bring this up with the Te-."

"Once again, _no._ We've already started plenty of ongoing conflict with these things, and bringing in the Terrans to this will only piss them off in return," Desolas interrupted again.

"And keeping whatever this is hidden from the Terrans, they'll be even more furious, Desolas," Saren injected.

"Oh, Saren! It's a relief to finally see you here. These savages are putting up a serious fight, and I'm glad to have a tactical mind on the field finally," Desolas finally greeted warmly. "Well, since you've been with Major Müller for the longest out of any of us, perhaps you could tell me just what I'm looking at here," Desolas transitioned, gesturing to the body in front of him.

Saren walked towards the dissected body, only for his eyes to widen in surprise. It was a Terran, eyes rolled into the back of its head, and arms spread out, as both the chest cavity and the skin on the arms had been cut open to reveal the various internal organs and muscle strands. However, one distinct trait set this Terran apart from all others he had seen. "Where are his implants? Why does his body tissue look so…?"

"Organic? Well, as I've been told, once upon a time, the Terrans had a whole generation of their kind that were completely organic, and lacked any implants. Of course, they quickly died out a few decades after contact, so I've been told. After several generations of inclusion of synthetic tissue in their gene pools, there hasn't been a single Terran who wasn't an organic-synthetic hybrid," the doctor explained.

"So the real question is, where do they come from?" Saren asked.

"Exactly. These Terrans don't even have the rudimentary translator, so though we may understand most of them, they don't understand a thing we're saying," Desolas answered.

"Are you implying that we may have begun this conflict based purely upon misunderstanding? If so, we should inform the Terran Re-."

" _No!_ We've already got these organic Terrans on our hands, and we don't need another front with the Terrans!" Desolas yelled.

"It'll only anger them more if we continue to keep this hidden. Just what is your plan, brother?" Saren argued.

"For now, we'll just pacify them and then get them into a presentable state for the rest of the Galactic community. We've already dealt with the main naval force, and they've been stranded on the planet below they now call 'Shan-Shee' according to some of the intercepted transmissions. We've got them blockaded for now and nothing is getting in or out. A few months time, and we'll bring them out of the shadows," Desolas answered.

"What exactly do you mean, 'presentable state'? As slaves? Sooner or later, the Terrans will find out and they will have your ass in a sling. It's just best if we tell them now while we have the chance," Saren argued.

Desolas flicked his mandibles with anger. "You've spent too much time with your friend Müller, it's already taken a toll on your behavior. Anyways, suit up and get ready for deployment, you'll be heading down to the surface and directing another assault on one of their main strongholds, they've still got strong AA guns that keep shooting our pilots out of the sky. In the mean time, I'll be investigating an abandoned raider settlement. A research vessel was gunned down there and I've been tasked to retrieve it. And not a word back to your _friend,_ " he ordered.

Saren angrily saluted. "Yes, _brother._ "

* * *

 **July 2, 2157**

 **08 hrs/11 min/22 sec**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **Bridge, idle in the Ra System, Delta Nebula**

Fredrick entered the bridge to see Max, and a few other deck officers huddled around a monitor. Fredrick approached the group from behind, and tapped Max on the shoulder. "What's going on, Max?"

The captain had done a good job making sure the unit stayed active and in line while he trained Saren for a little over two years. "Well, where do I start? It's clearly a friendly distress signal, but it's severely lacking in all the normal signs that make up a normal distress call."

"Such as?" Fredrick asked.

"No ID number, no one we recognize, all on frequencies no one uses, on a rudimentary distress beacon that was shipped out rather recently from 'raider' territory that was just picked up by patrols, and it's all in translated English. Sent by a 'General Willy' if you're curious, and by the sound of things, the Turians are giving him a hard time. Have a look," Max gestured to the monitor as a few officers backed away. Fredrick played the message to listen to the fragments of what had been recovered.

 _"This is Gen… Willi… ontinuosly blocka… reptilian cre…keep com… o way off… anXi…fleet dest…supplies… power low and too many inj… For now, I… temporary surr… don't know wh… need help ASA…."_ The dialogue was heavily fragmented and staticy, but everyone could tell the language was definitely English.

"After that, the message cuts out before repeating. What's our next course of action Fred?" Max asked, turning to Fredrick with concern.

Fredrick scratched the back of his head, thinking deeply. Why were the Turians keeping everyone in the dark about their operations against the 'raiders'? What would the implications be if they went out and paid the blockaded colony a visit, especially if it was classified by all accounts to the Turian public as well? The _Persistence_ was a stealth/destroyer-class, but could it provide them with the cover they needed to get on and off of the planet without being spotted, or for long enough to arrange a true cease-fire?

"Gentlemen, suit up and prepare to enter the Relay, we're helping those people. If what little educated guesses we could make are true, this could have some big implications here," Fredrick ordered, causing officers to begin rushing around the deck once more.

Max followed behind Fredrick to the lockers. "You couldn't possibly believe these guys could be from Earth, right?" he asked.

"Well here we are, gradually preparing to fight an ancient race of synthetics with an essentially bottomless pit of assets, so who's to say Earth didn't finally make their way to us?" Fredrick responded as the door to the bridge closed behind them.

* * *

 **July 3, 2157**

 **23 hrs/01 min/22 sec**

 **ShanXi, approaching the outer boarder of the colony capital**

It was the dead of night when Fredrick took his unit to the surface and began to roll out three personnel carriers. While gunships and dropships were the preferred form of transportation, they did produce plenty of noise in a half-kilometer radius, while personnel carriers could perform such troop drops in a much quieter fashion at the same level of protection, but half the speed. Like most of their equipment, design was based largely upon designs of ancient Earth weapons and equipment. As such, the personnel carriers were a mix of space rovers and the Stryker ICVs to provide both mobility and protection for exploration and combat.

It was about three kilometers from their destination; three times what Fredrick would normally drop off at. However, if they had been spotted, Fredrick wanted to appear as inconspicuous as possible. A slow, painfully nervous thirty minutes passed before they finally caught a glimpse of the wall in the distance. From where they were, they could tell that what was left of the defenses had been scrapped, and the buildings large char marks and fractures where the city had been bombarded. The walls themselves were a good eight meters tall.

"There it is, Fredrick. That's some strange architecture. Are you sure guys from Earth made architecture like that?" Max asked.

Fredrick could see wisps of what was considered "Earth architecture" by first gens from his earliest days on Delta Station. Like the hexagonal design of modern Khonsu, it had begun to move away from the ancient designs for more suitable structures in the current environments. "Most definitely see the resemblance. I'm seeing small patrols along the outside of the wall, and I can't see anyone from inside from here."

 _Major, unidentified ships spotted in orbit. They've engaged the Turian fleets,_ a deck officer called from the _Persistence._ _Rules of engagement, sir?_

The two looked at the images from the _Persistence_ sent to their omnitools to see sleek, yet boxy ships engaging the Turian destroyers. "Okay, maybe I'm a bit skeptical. There is no way in hell those directly from Earth would design space-faring ships that ineffective in terms of aerodynamicity and combat function," Fredrick answered, taking note of the boxy designs.

"They're sending dropships, Fred. Does that change anything?" Max asked, taking note of the smaller blips showing up, and entering the atmosphere.

"Our objective still remains, get into the city, see what the hell is going on, and see if we can work a peace treaty between both parties before this blows over into Galactic war." Everyone returned to the transports and continued towards the city walls, hoping the guards would have their attention drawn by the incoming attackers. The armored vehicles were almost a quarter of a kilometer to the city walls when mines started exploding off the vehicle barriers.

"Mines! Keep your eyes and move around as many as you can!" Max yelled over the coms. Now with the full attention of what was left of the wall guards, gunfire began to riddle the vehicles with more damage from the weapon placements.

"Keep moving! Get to the wall!" Fredrick barked as his vehicle began to shake from the tremendous fire. Eventually, all three personnel carriers made it to the wall with all the troops on board more or less unscathed. "Alright, find a weak spot and we'll blow our way in. Stick to cover!" Fredrick yelled as the troops hid in blind spots to the guards above. Eventually, a soldier found a thin segment of wall that led into a small workshop. Quickly making his way over to the wall segment, Fredrick brought his fist back, lunged forward with his biotics, and broke a hole in the wall.

"Everyone, inside, let's go people! Heavies first!" Max began to beckon to the other soldiers. A pair of heavily armored troops, both armed with MG-14s, entered through the hole as Fredrick took point, holding up the biotic barrier. Fredrick tossed a couple grenades onto several spots behind the wall gunners were held out behind, flushing them out with bright flashes, and sudden screams of pain. A few of the Turian guards were gunned down on sight, riddled with holes and limbs shot off as they tried to get from cover to cover during their initial entrance.

The Turian commander spoke on the intercoms surrounding the colony. _"All units, keep the inhabitants in doors during the raid. We've got additional unidentified intruders at the East edge of the colony, fend them off!"_

"Well, I suppose kicking the hornet's nest isn't the worst thing in the world. What's the plan, Fredrick?" Max asked.

"Get confirmation that these are people from Earth. Either way, try and open coms to all parties and demand a ceasefire. If these foreigners at least understand English, we can still stop this madness," Fredrick ordered as he crossed a bombed out courtyard towards a locked down building with two engineers, while Max stood behind to open coms on hopefully the retaliating invaders. Off in the distance, the group could already hear the overwhelming invaders engaging the posted Turian forces.

Fredrick and one of the engineers took positions by the doors while the second engineer began to hack his way through the door lock. As soon as the door opened, the engineer was bioticly yanked to cover by Fredrick, narrowly dodging the hail of thermal rounds exiting. In response, Fredrick cooked and threw in a stun grenade, before he and the two others charged in, gunning down a trio of Turian soldiers. At the other end of the apartment block, they could hear the Turians fighting off the unidentified assailants. Fredrick wove through some of the empty apartments, apprehending a few other Turians with blows to the head rather than tearing them apart till he and another engineer encountered a large group of Terran refugees, all huddled up.

"Just stay where you are! Are any of you hurt?" he ordered. He began to scan the whole crowd, to find what he suspected the moment he saw the city: no implants, no synthetic tissue, all normal Human beings like the First-Gens.

"No, but the children are hungry and ill. Do you have medical aid?" an older man asked.

"Hold on, I'll get you everything you need in several minutes," Fredrick answered. Suddenly, a bright light came from behind him. He turned suddenly to see a large group of armored Humans, also lacking implants or synthetic tissue.

"Freeze! Weapon on the ground!" one of the men shouted.

"Don't shoot! Friendlies and civies!" Fredrick said putting up his right hand.

"Wait, what the hell?" the leading soldier of the squad came forward. Through his open helmet, he could tell the soldier looked African-American, had brown eyes, thin black eyebrows, and a thin sleek face. "Are you, human?" the man asked.

"Are you from Earth?" Fredrick asked before reaching for his telecom implants. "Max! You better hurry up! Do you have coms open?"

"What do you mean? Of course we are!" the soldier responded with confused shock.

 _Just got communications open, and I've got Commander Arterius on the line. What should I tell him?_ Max finally answered.

The sudden rush of events was causing Fredrick to become dizzy. "Tell them to cease fire, these are friendlies! Soldier, can you get your troops to initiate a cease fire?"

"We just got here!" the soldier argued. "You can't just-"

"Cease fire, dammit!" Fredrick barked.

* * *

 **July 4, 2157**

 **05 hrs/13 min/44 sec**

 **ShanXi medical facility**

The First Contact War: that's what the Humans of the "Alliance Systems" called the conflict, counter to the Turians' "Relay 314 Incident." A war born from the fact the Alliance had no way of knowing they were violating Galactic law, and the Turians in turn had no idea of the Alliance's limited knowledge on exploration guidelines. In the span of three months, the conflict almost grew from small firefights on both planets and in space to full-scale interplanetary war. Had the Terran Republic not stepped in, the conflict could easily have dragged on for years before either side would properly listen.

The next few hours had been a grueling process of Fredrick making sure the refugees and troops on all sides had the aid they needed, and taking account of the Human dead. He continued to stare at a set of dog tags he'd just picked up from a young soldier among the Alliance Systems.

"Cprl. Adrian Shepard."

A solid name for a man who could no longer see his family or be proud of his actions. The young man had been part of the Alliance's effort to retake the colony, and had fought his way into the city before being taken down by sniper fire.

Fredrick sighed somberly as he put the tags back on the covered body before Saren and Max approached him from behind. "It's good to know you're still the negotiable type, Commander Arterius."

"Likewise, Captain Max. Good to see you again, Fredrick," Saren said, saluting him.

"It's good to know you're still alive, Saren. I wish I could say the same for so many here. Have you gotten word back to Palaven and the council?" Fredrick asked.

"I have. It's an uneasy peace, but at least this stopped before it all boiled over," Saren sighed with defeat.

Just then, the soldier from hours earlier and a previously captive officer, followed General Desolas Arterius strolled into the hospital. "Ah, I thought I'd find you here Saren. Saying hello to your friend I see?"

"Desolas, I don't know what Fredrick has done to earn your ire, but he has earned my respect. Not just as a student, but as a witness of his combat finesse," Saren defended Fredrick. "Anyways, I hope you've gotten the new translators, General Williams?"

The officer let out a defeatist tone. "Yes, Commander Arterius. I'm sorry matters had gotten out of hand so quickly."

"General, you did what you could to preserve as many lives on ShanXi as is," Fredrick started. "Besides, the Alliance as a whole had no idea they had been violating Galactic law, as they hadn't even encountered the rest of Galactic civilization."

"I never got to properly meet you, Sergeant…" Saren started gesturing towards the soldier next to Williams.

"Anderson, Sergeant D. Anderson. Pleasure to meet you Saren," the sergeant said reluctantly.

"Likewise," Saren growled. "I'm grateful when we can begin negotiations." Both sides of the conflict were still bitter, regardless of being convinced to broker a thin treaty.

"Speaking of negotiations, Saren, come with me, there's something I'd like to discuss with you in private," Desolas said, prompting both to leave the hospital.

"Anyways, I'm grateful for your intervention and assistance. I had to surrender just to make sure the populace didn't die out from fighting or starvation, Andrew Müller. For that, you forever have my gratittude" General Williams said, reaching for Fredrick's hand.

"Actually, it's Fredrick, General Williams. I'm the late-Andrew's descendent," Fredrick explained.

"Well then, you really are from Delta Station?" Anderson asked.

"We've developed on our own quite a bit since the wormhole collapsed, though we're still trying to find our place in the galactic community. What's Earth like in the modern era?" Fredrick asked.

The two sighed uneasily. "I don't know where to start, Müller," Anderson started. "Everyone just barely unified for the expansion to space, with the Prothean tech we found on Mars, we're just starting to scrub our heavily polluted atmosphere, and technological advancements are still being made. Large pockets of Russia were reduced to craters when hackers got ahold of their multi-warhead missiles back in the late twenty-first. As for poverty, life is just starting to improve a bit now people can colonize other planets and reduce the population surplus on Earth. As for out here, we've thinly spread our resources from expansion alone and were barely in any position to be fighting a war. So, what's your side of the story, major?"

Fredrick heaved a sigh, and walked over to a bench in the hospital, took a seat, and put down his helmet. "I'll try to cover as much of a hundred and thirty year gap as I can, so get comfortable gentlemen."


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to H(plus)

(A/N): Christ, it's been a year, and it's barely December. At least there's Andromeda to look forward to. Just don't screw it up EA & Bioware.

Chapter 2: Welcome to H+

" _Reuniting" with those from Earth went as well as a family reunion where the cousins, aunts, and uncles are all assholes, yet you have to accept the attitude is hereditary. Both the Alliance Systems and the rest of the Galactic community weren't exactly comfortable with the revelation of our connection. While understandable for the Council, I feel that any mistrust from the "normal" Humans is misplaced. I can't help but feel sorry for them though, entering a world where prejudice towards them has already been formed._

* * *

 **July 13, 2157**

 **12 hrs/29 min/02 sec**

 **Council Conference Chamber**

"It's good to know you two are just as concerned as I am about these newcomers," Councilor Taex said with relief.

"Technically speaking, I'm mostly concerned about their biological connection to the Augmented species of the Terran Republic, and how they came to be of their current state. I'm starting to believe they may have omitted some information concerning their accelerated evolution," Councilor Sancso stated. "As far as I'm concerned, the only difference between both species is that one group is biosynthetic, the other is organic. Other than that, they have similar tactics, politics, and culture. Essentially, we're dealing with the Terran's first contact all over again, except the Hierarchy is at the receiving end."

"Answers will surface in time, and they aren't too threatening just yet. They aren't nearly as advanced as any of us, or their biosynthetic counterparts. However, I fear that the Alliance will use this relationship as a bargaining chip with the Terrans and gain this same advantage. Should we have conflicts in the future, we'll have to combat the same threat on two fronts, neither of which we can afford," Councilor Tevos imputed. She was fearful of the Terran's great advancements, and how they already had outstripped the Asari on several fronts in terms of technological progression.

"So far, that doesn't seem to be the case, but I do feel we can't allow these 'original Terrans' to gain momentum so quickly just yet. I have no problem allowing them to play around in the Attican Traverse, maybe they'll rub shoulders with the Hegemony, and we'll be the least of their concerns," Taex proposed, leaning on the table and supporting his chin with his arms.

"I'm aware it was the Heirarchy that had to step in to prevent the Batarians' extinction at the hands of the Terrans in the first place, and I will not take up the same responsibility should history repeat itself," Sancso growled, slamming her palm on the table and allowing her mandibles to openly twitch to get her point across.

Tevos believed the Batarians had done much less than their fair share to Galactic developments than any other race had, and as such deserved what horrors they faced. "The Batarians wouldn't be a grave loss. Should the Alliance finish off and scatter the Batarians into a government-less, nomadic race, so be it. So long as the Alliance Systems have something to rid their angst on."

Sancso retreated to a calmer stance. "So be it. But I've made my decision process clear, so I hope you two do likewise should the situation arise."

* * *

 **July 14, 2157**

 **10 hrs/20 min/29 sec**

 **ShanXi Colony**

Fredrick hadn't imagined finally encountering Humans from Earth to be so uncomfortable, nor did he expect the same reaction in return. It was only ten days after the conflict ended, and both subspecies were already giving each other wayward glances. "Normal" Humans weren't nearly used to the same level of implantation or synthetic tissue composure as the "Aug" Humans were, and were still becoming accustomed to having biotics among their numbers. Most notably among biological differences was how Augs stood a foot taller than the average Normal, and how their strength was much more comparable to a Rhino.

Politically speaking, both the Alliance Systems and Terran Republic had started on the wrong foot. The Earth's current environment was a ruined shadow of its former self, and uncontrolled industrial work and population growth had allowed smog to choke up almost half of the developed world. Furthermore, a Third World War had finally broken out towards the end of the Twenty First Century, and was still reeling from the fallout of the aftermath. When politicians had finally met, the Alliance was eager to "reunite" under a single government, when the Terrans were found distaste with the proposition. The Terrans argued that what was Delta Station had long since broken off and become it's own government, own species, and own culture, but was still willing to send aid to show recognition of relations.

For now, Fredrick was going to be sent back to the broken Earth to pick up the pieces and stich them back together, but was still helping to repair the ShanXi colony. As of the very moment, he stood in front of wide-eyed young Alliance troops, as he presented them each bit of equipment in the Terran arsenal at a firing range, Anderson standing at the head of the pack.

"Particle weapons is the basis of our arsenal," Fredrick started simply. From the advancements we've made on Khonsu, we more commonly use accelerated particles over thermal rounds. As a direct-energy weapon, we're basically firing off a string of charged particles. Hence, the projectiles lack any true mass, and generate no recoil. The reasons why everyone else isn't using these weapons, is because they are incredibly heavy," he explained as he handed his rifle to Anderson, causing the soldier to struggle to keep the weapon level. "Firstly, the materials we had to work with on Khonsu are much more dense than the metals used to normally manufacture guns are. Secondly, these weapons are more oriented towards our own physiology, so the only other species you'll most likely see using these weapons are Krogan. Hopefully, you were paying attention to the slides Captain Hong was providing, so you'll understand what those are," Fredrick answered, gesturing towards some soldiers giving confused glances. "Thirdly, these things require these dense, compact materials to fire and work. You're basically carrying a miniature, more advanced Hadron Collidor, and the particle beams you are firing off will melt materials of lesser heat resistance. Trust me, I've seen it happen," Fredrick finished, prompting a few laughs. "Now, we move onto the toys."

Fredrick picked up his trusty LSAP rifle from a table to his side and showed it to the crowd. "This is the standard issue LongSword Accelerated Particle Rifle," he started. "It is derived from the M4 carbine platform, except the handle has now been stretched over the entirety of the main body, flattened to allow various attachments, and clips are these bioelectric cells that are recharged using our biocells, directed to the exterior of our suits at our lower back, I'll get to the armor later." Fredrick turned to the range, aimed the weapon, and fired a few times. "While it isn't an automatic-fire option like its predecessor, it has fifty round clip, is best suited for medium range, and is capable of severe burns and dismemberment if it doesn't kill you." Fredrick then turned around, put the weapon down on the table next to him and drew out the LSAP-Sniper variant. "The sniper variant has an extended barrel for completely reduced spread, and is pretty self explanatory."

Fredrick turned his attention to the LBP machine pistol on the table. "The Light-Burst Particle machine pistol, derived from the MP7, was designed with greater spread and chip-damage in mind. The accelerator track is half the length of the rifle, causing a greater chance of random deviation. There is an extended barrel option for those who are comfortable with greater control," he said before turning back to the range and giving the machine a light burst.

Once again, he put the weapon down and picked up the SAP pistol. "The Short-rail Accelerated Particle pistol, like the M9 it was based on, is a side arm meant for personal protection. Usually, it won't be used unless for covert mission, officer protection, specialist protection, and civilian use. Unless you're feeling really nostalgic and want to dual wield these," he explained as he twirled the gun around, before returning it to the table.

"Then, there's the Saiga-12's long lost grandchild Dispersed-Energy Pulse shotgun," he continued, picking up the short weapon. "Rather than a beam, the weapon releases a pulse of energy in an expanding cone formation. The shot will completely disperse at long range, so don't try to snipe with it," Fredrick said, as he demonstrated on various targets at the firing range.

He put down the weapon and swapped out for a railgun. "This is the only projectile-based weapon we use. It's capable of firing various types of projectiles at longer ranges, and is capable of firing various ammo types. How it works should be pretty self explanatory." He simply showed the reloading mechanism and a few different ammo-type magazines. "Originally, we used an old fashion grenade launcher for this role before we replaced it with this."

Fredrick returned the railgun before pulling a large crate from under the table, typed in the lock code, and whipped out an MG-14. "This is basically the great-great-great-great-grandchild of the MG-42. It has a coolant barrel on the underside of the main barrel, and is the heaviest of the whole arsenal. Unless you skipped out on history, this monstrosity should be pretty self-explanatory. You'll only see this in gun placements, and carried by the incredibly brash, as it either requires another generator altogether for charging, or extra large batteries, because pulling the trigger will reduce the unlucky bastard at the receiving end of the barrel to a fine red mist. The weapon itself comes with a bipod for stationary placement on the field, for those who aren't heavies," he continued to explain as he set up the weapon at the range, including attaching a stationary power source. "You gentlemen can give it a demonstration run later, but now for the armor."

He removed his helmet and turned it around for everyone to see. "As you can probably tell, the top half was based upon the PASGT helmet, or Kevlar helmet, with an added lower component that does seal onto the rest of the suit. Under the circumstances the environment had some oxygen, the dual filters on the front allow the helmet to filter out this air while saving and restoring the oxygen cells in the back of the suit. These oxygen cell can allow the wearer to thrive in inhospitable environments for up to twelve hours." Fredrick put back on his helmet, and allowed the seals to take place, before continuing. "The suit is a composed of a bodyglove and several other insulated layers, before being covered by the muscular metal mesh. The mesh is designed to allow full mobility, yet thorough damage resistance, topped off by additional armor plating." As the final part of the armor demonstration, he pulled a battery from the lower part of his back, where the shotgun would usually go. "Our suits do stem some bioelectricity to recharge our ammunition clips. Originally, this was because we wanted to save on materials, but now it's so we can keep up the fight without too much worry of low ammo."

Putting back the battery, Fredrick allowed a sea of nanites to coat his left arm. "Now, nanites are the magical reason we aren't skeletons huddled around what's left of a fire on Khonsu. No doubt you've seen these being used on wounded and ill in the medical wing by now. First and foremost, they serve as our immune system and allow us to recover much quicker." Without warning, Fredrick pulled off his helmet, opened his mouth slightly, pulled out his pistol, held it up to his right cheek, and fired, sending a bolt clean through both cheeks. Without acknowledging the pain, he continued, "Now, having two extra holes in your face is incredibly inconvenient, even if they are just piercings. Fortunately, our bodies do consist of glands that hold and grow more additional nanites." Proving his point, both cheeks puddled with nanites, before shrinking and revealing the repaired tissue underneath. "Nanites can also be used for mechanical reasons, and engineers bring their own type for repairing machinery. Major White should be back by the garage repairing some of your vehicles if you want further demonstration. Finally, nanites make an excellent form of extra protection while active." For his final demonstration, he had the nanites cover his whole body, forming his shield. "If you're fighting one of us, and you see this happen, you better stay in cover until we finally drop this, because you will not be able to shoot through this."

"Finally, there's the list of abilities you'd expect in combat, such as strength, agility, excessive use of biotics, cloaking, seeing through walls, and withstanding various other hazards on the field no one else can. And yes, our bodies are capable of withstanding EMPs, or we wouldn't be here. Anyways, I've got matters to discuss with your staff sergeant. For now, dismissed." The soldiers saluted, and either went their way, or proceeded to attempt firing the MG-14.

"Well, I suppose baby steps are the way forward. I'm not entirely in agreement with my superiors that the proposal at that conference last week was a good idea," Anderson started, approaching Fredrick as the two walked through the gradually repairing colony.

"Neither do I, but I'm grateful that we are at least showing some friendly gesture to get developments on the right track. Tell me, what is Earth like currently?" Fredrick returned.

"Where do I start, Major Müller? Infrastructure is strong, but the thick smog, rampant poverty, and overpopulation were starting to get to us. At least everyone was forced to work together after the Third World War. Hell, had the war lasted a week longer, there would've been nothing left. May I ask what Khonsu is like?" Sergeant Anderson responded.

"Clean, well kept, strict but fair, we've probably done a much better job of industrial regulation, and we do have multiple programs to ensure the severe limitation of poverty and crime. Like I said, it was a rough start, and there were a few people who had to be dragged kicking and screaming to make sure we could survive. We've been able to maintain population growth by spreading out in the Delta Nebula, and people usually have a tendency to stick within the confines of the system. We are able to track ourselves through the registration on our implants, but the Galaxy still isn't exactly comfortable with 'synthetic' life forms. Especially after the Geth uprising from three hundred cycles ago," Fredrick explained.

"'Geth' sir?" Anderson asked.

"A race of artificial intelligences made by the nomadic race, the Quarians, as servants. They had readily added more and more to the Geth's processing capabilities as simply virtual-intelligences until they became sentient. While innocuous at first, the Quarians panicked and started a war with their own creations, resulting in their self-exile. The Quarians have primarily lived on a large fleet of ships ever since," Fredrick answered, reminding himself that these were all new concepts to Anderson and the others.

"I see. Why haven't they established a new home on another planet?" Anderson asked.

"Apparently, it's punishment for being so careless with AI, because of regulations against doing so. However, I don't see how dooming a race to long-term possible extinction is going to teach them, or solve anything for that matter. They even had their embassy rights stripped," Fredrick grumbled.

"I'm getting the impression the council has earned your ire. May I ask what?" Anderson asked once more as they approached the garage.

Fredrick narrowly resisted the urge to suddenly lash out. At the word "ire," a brief flash of Tevos and Samelthea's faces briefly flashed in his mind's eye. "They all have their secrets. Some of which they use to their advantage over other races, and would turn into a political bombshell if someone leaked them."

The two approached Nolan White from behind as he worked on a M35 Mako. Fredrick still couldn't help but grin whenever he saw one of his original teammates, and this introduction was no exception. Nolan withdrew a long strand of nanites from the interior of the engine before turning to greet the two. "Fredrick, good to see you, man! Just doing my best to repair your tanks, Sergeant," Nolan greeted as he patted Fredrick on the shoulder, unlike the reserved Nolan from the Twenty-First.

"Do you have everything you need, Major? I know resources are scarce from the war, so I understand if you experience a few limitations," Anderson asked.

"Nothing like that, but I still would like to ask just who the hell designed this thing, Sergeant? Because just from scans and having the nanties poke inside alone, I can easily tell you these miserable hunks of metal are more likely to land your troops in the infirmary than it is going to get a guaranteed enemy-KIA," Nolan answered, raising an eyebrow. "Don't get me wrong, these have all the right components, it's just they're poorly tuned to the conditions they'll be travelling through. The steering module is slow to respond, the suspension is too highly tuned, it's top-heavy, and there is no terrain compensation for the gun, essentially a recipe for endless friendly-fire incidents. The only positives are the protection, displays, and the main gun, and I know for a fact from my early days with Fredrick that we're better off on foot."

"I'm sure the sergeant will pass on your complaints, Nolan," Fredrick started. "While Williams and the Admiral oversee negotiations on the Citadel, I was going to be in the recovery operation back on Earth. I presume you would be there as well?"

"Yeah. They want me along too to help install the atmo-scrubbers. Just how bad did the smog on Earth manage to get, Sergeant?" Nolan answered before turning to Anderson.

"Pretty bad over the years. You'd have to go far out to the countryside back in Britain to get a good view of clear-blue sky, and people in more urban areas are starting to wear small masks, so you shouldn't have to worry about scaring anyone with those helmets of yours. Seriously, did any of the original colonists bring a copy of the Star Wars vids?" Anderson described further, before trying to add a semi-cheerful tone at the end.

"Well, I don't exactly see the point of having open-visor helmets or exposed oxygen connections at the back of the helmet either, sergeant," Nolan commented.

* * *

 **15 hrs/45 min/32 sec Local Time**

 **London, Britain, Sol System, "Local" Cluster**

Earth had most definitely changed. In the wake of the Third World War, more of the past had been reduced to ash, leaving room to build and heal. With the new flow of resources from the few colonies they had established, the inhabitants of Earth began to climb over the buildings of old, forming newer, sleeker buildings, and more of them. Regardless of the wounds of the past, they still had pressing issues threatening their survivability.

However, measures and efforts to stem the effects of industrialization, overpopulation, and unregulated manufacturing had ultimately failed. In the face of both the destruction caused by the war, and the greatly delayed effort to expand to space caused by the wormhole collapse, the governments couldn't maintain control anymore. Eventually, the fragments of the old world banded together one last time to make a solid push to Mars. By 2103, multiple countries had established colonies, and had finally found the one element they had never a chance to receive from Khonsu: dark matter, which they called element zero. By the late 2140s, they found a Prothean laboratory, which ultimately jumped their technology to the pace of the other space-faring races. Ultimately, the newfound ability to become a space-faring species had called for need for a new group to regulate and oversee colony management and space travel, giving rise to the Systems Alliance.

While they had the technology to finally move away from the caustic fuels polluting their world, the damage was already immense. Fortunately, it was not irreversible, and among other installations to stabilize living on Earth. Unfortunately, change would still take its time to take effect.

"Well, I guess Omega isn't the worst place in the Galaxy," Nolan commented nervously. Fredrick, Nolan, and a detachment of troops just hung over London, getting a wide view from the gunship they rode. The two were going to an Alliance HQ set in London.

"Well, the smog here looks much better than it does in other locations, but it's still bad. I presume you'll be deploying the atmo-stimulator is some centralized location?" Fredrick asked.

"Yeah, and I presume you'll be working your way with the politicians. Again. But it'll still be a moment to behold, right?" Fredrick honestly preferred the loose yet positive looking Nolan compared to the protocol-zealous and head-tight Nolan of the Twenty-First.

The gunships came to a halt on the large airstrip just towards the south of the Alliance structure. "Well, here we are, Nolan. Enjoy the stay while it lasts." Fredrick took his first steps on the ground below him, and took a good look at the world around him, before being followed by his fellow soldiers out. It was a strange sensation, first taking look at the world around him. On the tarmac were personnel of various rank approaching to meet them and the cargo freighters following the gunships. He knew it would be years to fix the problems the two races faced, any prejudices any thought of the other, and the inevitable defense of one another in the inevitable conflict with the Harvesters, but his actions mattered this time. That moment meant more than another soldier deploying in a civie-central, it was the moment the colonists of Khonsu finally returned home.


	3. Chapter 3: Identity Crisis

(A/N): Waist deep in, and with a loose idea of where to go. Anything that I failed to fill you guys in on in terms of content?

Chapter 3: Identity Crisis

 _One hundred and thirty years later and here I am, on Earth, where Müller, Sokolov, and many more came from. While I can't say I'm disappointed, I'm astounded at the general hostility towards Nolan, my men, and I. While any hostile actions they perform are as effective as throwing rocks at a tank, I don't understand what they hope to achieve, or why they feel threatened, especially from the newly formed Terra Firma party. As the faction who was helping them to gain a foothold in this Galaxy, I thought they would've been enthusiastic about our presence._

* * *

 **July 22, 2157**

 **06 hrs/29 min/30 sec**

 **Admiral Scott's Office, Alliance HQ, London, Britain**

Admiral Scott looked nervously out his office window, overlooking the Thames River. He didn't know how to feel about the Augmented presence, and was inclined to leave them as be until they have helped to heal their planet. Unfortunately, the crowds who would attack Major White and his unit in the British streets were increasingly concerning. While these clashes were particularly ineffective against Terran Infantry, given the vast majority of any actual firearms used were from the bygone Twenty-First Century, these actions were not helping relations in the slightest.

The men among the Alliance ranks were already divided about these connections in terms of their opinions. The veterans of the First-Contact War who had retired for medical reasons could now retake their previous ranks at the cost of being given implanted prosthesis from the Terrans, warping opinions even further. While the limbs and tissue had no harmful effects, the sheer harm to order and rank was putting others around them at risk. Those who were being forced to take a side, himself included, were being increasingly forced to do so, especially from individuals like those from the Terra Firma.

Worst of all, there were now reports of rumors on the streets that the Terran Forces were actually an occupation force, and that Earth had actually surrendered to an alien species, and the Augmented troops were actually "repurposed" resistance figures. While their general appearance had may have been the cause of such rumors, he couldn't help but wonder if these rumors had been sparked by such extremist groups as Terra Firma in an effort to turn people back to the Sol System. Perhaps it was sudden end of the conflict on ShanXi that had generated suspicion. Regardless, he needed these rumors to stop if he was going to stop expending police on riots.

An intercom on his desk beeped. _"Admiral Scott, Staff Sergeant Anderson has arrived for your scheduled discussion."_

Scott sighed and turned from the window to respond. "Send him in." He noticed the young soldier had been spending much time with the Augmented People, and wanted to ask several questions. A few minutes later, Sergeant Anderson entered the door and saluted.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Anderson asked.

"At ease, Sergeant. Have a seat. Need something to drink?" the admiral asked, gesturing to the seats in front of his desk.

"No sir, I'm not thirsty," Anderson responded as he slowly sat down.

"No need to feel the bar has been raised, soldier. I know I woke you up early, and I wanted to discuss matters with you concerning the Terran Infantry," Scott prompted. Though Major White was still in England, Major Müller had been on the US East Coast, so he felt he could have this conversation in private.

"I'll get coffee on the way out sir. What seems to be the problem sir? I thought you'd check in with my CO." Anderson was disciplined, humble, and a Spartan all the way through.

"I don't want your CO's opinion, I want yours, seeing you have been taking quite a bit of time with Major Müller. What is it you find so fascinating about him?" the admiral asked, jumping right into his series of questions.

"They're just… interesting, sir. I know the concept of aliens having anatomy exactly like ours is only a fantasy from the vids, so to find something from out there that is essentially the same as us is an opportunity. To know what we could've been like had we been out there a century ago. Not just our culture, but our interactions with these other species," Anderson explained.

"I see," Scott retorted. "And what is your opinion on the Augmented among the Alliance ranks? Do keep in mind these were soldiers that had to retire because they lost a limb or proper mental cognition during the war."

"I see no difference, admiral. They're still Human beings, just like you and me. I thought we would've been over this matter by now." Sergeant Anderson was a very open individual, and he felt that telling the difference between Synthetic-Human and Organic-Human was the same as judging by the color of one's skin.

"Well, there are many among the Alliance who would disagree with your opinion, no doubt you know by now. It's only been a week since they got here, and everyone's already panicking," Scott continued.

"I do, Admiral. What do you plan to do with individuals like these?" Anderson asked in return.

"We can't afford to drop men just because they lose their shit over working with aliens and cyborgs or whatever the hell you feel like calling them. If what the majors say is out there really is out there, we need as many capable men on board as possible. I saw the various races on the Citadel Station when I visited for negotiations, and while I certainly have no problem, others do, and it is creating friction among ourselves. For the next time I do contact you, I want you to keep tabs on where the emotions are, and whether they are improving or worsening. Understood?" Scott argued.

"Understood Admiral," Anderson nodded.

"Good, now head back to your bunk and get whatever sleep you can. Tomorrow's yet another day. Hopefully, we'll make it through this one too."

* * *

 **July 24, 2157**

 **10 hrs/10 min/09 sec**

 **Outside the Alliance HQ, New York City, New York, US**

 _"Christ, this is a shit-storm,"_ Fredrick thought to himself. The last week had been an absolute nightmare. He'd been tasked with overseeing the installation of the atmo-stimulators, construction of important infrastructure, the distribution of supplies to the poor, and handing out KIA letters, he'd been tasked with dealing with crime of various sorts. He'd been no stranger to all of the aforementioned tasks, but it did quickly get to him much faster than usual, as a result of the hostile locals.

One such notable example was the second night he'd been in New York City, when he'd hit the pub at the end of the day. The bartender and pub owner didn't like him and had done a few laughingly poor attempts to poison him. Clearly, he'd done something to anger the drinkers too, and he'd subsequently gotten into a bar fight. When he'd finally stepped out, a few kids had attempted to burn him with a molotov cocktail, which clearly failed to do anything but create a colorful display with his barriers.

On the third day, he'd begun to deal with rioters in the streets, as some believed he and his men was actually part of some imaginary imperial occupation, and that they'd eventually be starved of resources or enslaved to dig in mines on other planets. While they were generally organized, they hadn't thought of properly arming themselves with stolen thermal-round based weapons, and instead used the ancient combustion-propelled projectile weapons that somehow still worked years after manufacturing had stopped.

To make matters worse, they now had a new drug on the streets called "red sand," a nasty concoction of usually refined element zero and cocaine. While treating addicted individuals was relatively easy, there were still plenty of individuals becoming dependent on the substance, and there were plenty of underground pockets, still cooking it up. The worst part of the operation was dealing with those who had overdosed, or took red sand made with unrefined element zero.

Today, he and Anderson had the lovely job of cleaning out an apartment for demolition to make way for reconstruction. He'd also received word from street informants that there was a red sand joint in the building, so he was going to keep an eye out for possible continuing leads on the source or sources to the drug's distribution. He, some of his unit, and Anderson's unit approached a couple of run-down apartment buildings from the end of the Twenty-First, and was going to make sure the inhabitants were ready to move out, and everyone was accounted for. Right behind him on the street were four buses, ready to take everyone aboard to the Alliance HQ for temporary relocation.

Fredrick and Anderson walked up the concrete steps and took a few light knocks on the door. The door opened to reveal a short, elderly, African American male, peaking out of the door. "You the officers who gonna clear the building?" the landlord asked in a voice like old stones rubbing against each other.

"Yes sir," Fredrick said, handing his credentials over on a datapad. "After we clear the building, it will be rebuilt, and we will return the property to you, sir."

"Very well, officer." The landlord brought his head back in, and beckoned to the inhabitants behind him. "C'mon everyone, let's get a move on." From the building came almost two hundred impoverished New Yorkers of varying demographic.

Suddenly, Fredrick's reality temporarily warped, _he and Anderson were still in their places, but the buses turned into dropships, and the world once again briefly showed the burning city of his ancient nightmare. The sky was still clogged with smoke, and glowed from the burning world around them. Off in the distance, he could hear explosions and gunfire between the failing resistance and the ruthless mechanical army._

 _"You alright?" Anderson asked._ Fredrick snapped back to reality, fortunately without having caused too much disruption.

"Yeah, just bad memories, that's all," Fredrick quickly answered.

"Been through plenty?" he asked again.

"Let's not spook the children here with war stories. I can tell you all about it during lunch break," Fredrick delayed.

"Very well. Looks like everyone's out, move in guys, see if anyone's still snoozing." Fredrick and Anderson began to check level by level of the building. In the basement, they had found a few stashed shipments of red sand as well as a monitor with messages, but nothing else to go by in terms of leads on the marketers. Level by level, it was pretty clear all the inhabitants had nothing but the clothes on their backs to live with. Each had a sack of clothes and personal belongings with them, leaving nothing but old beds and rotting furniture.

Fredrick continued to look around with disappointment. He was sure that the residents would be checked back at HQ, but even after scanning the rest of the building, he'd found no other tracks to follow. Suddenly, he heard a soldier talk one more floor above him. "Ma'am? You've got to go, we're prepping the building for demolition."

He proceeded up the stairs and to the floor with the soldier and remaining resident. It was an emptied out dual-room building, and was empty besides the kitchen, a table, four chairs, a filthy sink, some cabinets along the far corner, and a single bed in the far back. A lone redheaded woman lying completely still, face down, and arm dropping to the floor. The Alliance soldier was slowly approaching the woman, weapon at the ready, like he was approaching a bomb. From where Fredrick was, he scanned the woman with his implants, quickly identifying her as deceased. "She's dead, soldier. Overdosed," Fredrick spoke up, causing the soldier to jump.

"W-what? How d'y-," the man started.

"Advanced ocular implants as a field medic, I can see vitals. And I can clearly tell you she has neither a pulse nor any neurological activity. Her cells are dead, and she's been here for several hours now." Just then, Anderson entered and saw the corpse, before approaching and having a good look at the woman.

"Shit, it's Hannah Shepard," he told Fredrick as he in turn approached the body. "I met her when I informed her about her husband, Adrian Shepard's death. She didn't take it well. Ramirez, get me a body bag, and do your best to show respect to her."

Just as the soldier left, Fredrick could hear a small cry from right behind him. He drew out his rifle, and sharply turned around and looked down to see a small child in the doorway into the next room. She had some dirty gray clothing, had olive skin, short red hair like her mother, and the familiar green eyes he saw in the unmoving face of Adrian Shepard back on ShanXi. Given her height, development, and motor function alone, he could tell the little girl was about three years old. "Mama?" she asked, stumbling forward sleepily.

"Aww shit," Fredrick said nervously putting away his rifle and getting down on a knee. "Look, mama isn't feeling well right now, she needs to rest."

"Mama? What's happening?" the little girl quickly slipped around Fredrick surprisingly fast.

"Look, your mother is ill right now, and we're clearing out the building. Do you have a name?" Anderson said getting down to distract the young girl from her mother's corpse.

"My name is Linda. Why is mama feeling sick?" she answered before slipping under Anderson and climbing onto the bed. "Mama? Are you okay?"

Fredrick was starting to feel sick. A child, as innocent and undeserving of such cruelty from the world as Linda, had to face the harsh reality of death at such a young age. While he'd indirectly been taught such concepts at the same age, it was for medical school, whereas death had been forced into her life. "Get away from her, she could be infectious."

"Mama? Wake up!" Linda said, shaking her cold, dead mother.

"Ramirez! Hurry up with that body bag!" Anderson called into his radio. "Look, she's feeling uncomfortable right now and needs to be left alone," Anderson lied, picking Linda up off the bed.

"Wait, where are we going? We can't leave Mama!" Linda cried out.

"Sir, I've got the body bag as ordered," Ramirez said as he entered the room. "What's going on, sir?" he asked, looking at the commotion.

"Ramirez, help me with the body. Major Müller, I presume you've handled children before?" Anderson ordered before turning to Fredrick.

"I-I…," Fredrick could barely speak as Anderson handed Linda to him. As soon as fully took hold of Linda, the world once again morphed into the burning city. _Outside, the city was once again engulfed in flames as the walls around the windows crumbled into dust to reveal the harrowing horrors in the distance. He could see giant entities similar to that of Nazara, burning the city away with red beams of energy. "I'll meet you outside, Sergeant. I presume you two will be taking care of the body?"_

 _Anderson and Ramirez were loading the body into the thick black bag and zipped it closed. "We'll be right behind you, major. We'll be sweeping through once more to look for personal belongings." The two now resembled USMC soldiers, with desert camo and M4A1s replacing their Avenger rifles._

 _"What are they doing with mama?" Linda screamed, squirming in his grasp and tears rolling down her face. "Mama! Wake up!"_

 _The apartment creaked and groaned as the harrowing winds blew past, and each step Fredrick took left a chard footprint on the ground where he stood. The world seemed to slow down as he strode down the steps. All around him, the Alliance soldiers now resembled USMC troops like Anderson and Ramirez had, as they continued to search the apartment building or began to make their way to the entrance behind him. The other Terran troops were turned into UN peacekeepers, with sand blue M1 Helmets instead of the PASGT helmets of the First Generation troops on Delta Station._

 _He exited the apartment, Linda still kicking and screaming in his grasp, to see that two of the buses had already left, while two of the remaining buses were still being loaded with civilians. "No! You left Mama behind!" Linda screamed again._

 _At the bottom of the stoop of the building, Fredrick put her down on the bottom step and took of what was still in his own eyes a steel pot right beside her. "Linda, look at me," he said, holding her tear drenched face. "Your mother is alright, she's just a bit sick right now. We'll be taking her to the hospital, and you'll see her soon, okay?" Fredrick said, trying to comfort her. "She's fine, and you will see her soon, but you have to stay strong. For Mama, and especially for your Papa." Suddenly, the world began to dust and blow away around him to_ reveal the real world around him. Though battered, New York City still stood, and had yet to burn.

Linda sniffled and watched Anderson and Ramirez exit the building with the body and a bag full of her toys and other belongings. She solidly nodded and looked back towards Fredrick. "Yes," she responded.

Fredrick smiled and lightly patted her on the shoulder. "That's a good girl, now hurry and get in line to get on the bus," he said, helping her onto her feet. As she stumbled to the end of the line, Anderson approached him from behind.

"Smart kid, she has quite a future for herself," he commented. "So, what did you tell her?"

Fredrick sighed painfully as he clicked his helmet back into place. He had no problem lying, and his career had taught him to do so quite effectively. However, this was a child, and he'd just told her that her motherly figure was simply under the wind, when she had actually passed on from this Earth all together. "I just gave her enough hope to keep moving until we can figure out what to do with her. I'll be with her till we drop her off at the infirmary at HQ. She's slightly malnourished, and has a small cold. Can you find any relatives she has?"

"No, she and what little she had were off the record, and I already had plenty of trouble finding her mother in the first place when I had to report to her the loss of her husband. The only reason I actually met the late-Hannah was because she came to me looking for answers," Anderson answered. "Unfortunately, all we can hope to do is find a nice, local orphanage for her to go into."

Fredrick let out another painful sigh. While he felt sorry for Linda, he was in no way a potential fatherly figure, not with his role in life. He was a soldier, a doctor, someone who danced with the devil, and waded waist deep in death and disease mission after mission. She already had a rough start, but he could let pain, death, and destruction be the only things she knew in life. On top of that, he couldn't let having a child draw his attention away from what really mattered. "I suppose that's all we can do. And maybe you're right, maybe she will find her place somewhere out there."

The last of the Alliance and Terran soldiers poured out of the building, and a single Alliance trooper approached Anderson. "Sir, we've cleared the building, and it's currently ready for demolition. Any leads on red sand operations have been successfully extracted, as little as there are."

"Good work corporal. Ramirez, get the demolition charges from the APC, I'll get word back to command," Anderson ordered, causing a grumbling Ramirez to stomp away. "I'll see you back at command, major."

Fredrick and a few other soldiers got onto the bus just as Linda managed to climb aboard, and helped her onto a bench at the back before taking a seat himself. Her tears had dried by now, and she turned to him as he took off his helmet. "Who are you?" she asked.

Fredrick put his helmet in his lap and turned to her. "My name is Fred. Nice to meet you, Linda." Linda quickly huddled up beside him and went to sleep. After Linda dozed off, he leaned back in his seat, and glanced out the window at the passing New York City view. "The Galaxy is a strange place, and I'm not sure where it will begin for you."

* * *

(P.S.): God, that ending sequence was getting hard to write. Furthermore, I kept hearing "Sound of Silence" ringing in my ears, and that wasn't making things any easier. I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty confident that all the important characters had something wrong about their childhood in one way or another, with the exceptions of Spacer Shepard and Canon-Saren (then again, we barely know anything about Canon-Saren). Things have been a bit action packed for some of the previous chapters, so I thought it'd be fair to even things out with scenes on Earth. Unfortunately, I'm only allowed to have two sub-genres mentioned on this website, otherwise I would've thrown angst into the mix.

Oh, and before you PM me or post a review about it, yes, Sergeant Foley jokes are still funny. That game is only seven years old (Jesus, has it been that long already?).


	4. Chapter 4: The Cycle Continues

(A/N): I finally found a place to read up on ME:Evolution, to try and get a better basis on this upcoming chapter. God I hope this helps. Also, I'll be treading into actual canon events, so just to state that I don't own Mass Effect or any of it's sub-titles, it belongs to both Electronic Arts and Bioware.

Chapter 4: The Cycle Continues

 _In the chaos of the First Contact War, I had missed a few critical details, namely Saren's brother, Desolas' activities. I had heard distantly of what he'd been doing, but I had ignored them in favor of securing peace between the Systems Alliance and the rest of the Galaxy. In the closing weeks of the conflict, Desolas had been increasingly interested in an unknown artifact, another secret hidden away from us. From the effects it had on others, I could fully understand Saren's concern._

* * *

 _ **? UNK, 21XX**_

 _ **? hrs/? min/?sec**_

 _ **The Void**_

 _He painfully gasped for air, and his eyes shot open._ "Aauug, what the hell happened?" _he thought. He was in a downed gunship, and all he could see outside from the warped door was clouds of smoke. He glanced at his blood-coated hand before beginning the climb out, ignoring the screaming pain. Eventually, he made it out the side hatch and climbed out into the open, before slowly standing up and looking around him._

 _It was the same burning city, but destroyed much more heavily than the last. The city had been flattened, the ground on which he stood was charred black, and a blooming mushroom cloud grew in the distance. All around him were soldiers of different species, dead, crawling, or stumbling about before falling over, but all were writhing in pain and presumably drawing their final breaths like he was._

 _"Do you believe victory is possible?" Nazara asked in the distance, causing everyone's pain to spike temporarily, prompting additional painful groans from around him. "Do you believe standing against the tide will achieve anything different? It is the definition of insanity to continue driving in the same direction expecting a different outcome," Nazara continued to taunt._

 _"I am more than ones and zeros, I'm of a complexity you would never understand," he taunted back. "I don't abide the limitations others do."_

 _"If it is destruction you desire, so be it," Nazara growled._

 _Another explosion bloomed, much closer than the first, and consumed him and the other survivors with a blinding light._

Fredrick's eyes opened to the sound of his omnitool chiming.

* * *

 **July 29, 2157**

 **06 hrs/49 min/45 sec**

 **Fredrick's Personal Quarters, Khonsu**

The day was just barely starting, and traffic was starting to pick up outside. He got out of his bed and looked at his omnitool. It was an incoming message, and Fredrick saw a friendly name appear when he tapped it to respond: Saren Arterius. "Hello?" he started.

 _Fredrick! Spirits, am I glad to hear your voice. We've got trouble right here on Palaven, and matters are quickly getting worse,_ Saren started.

"I don't understand, Saren. What do you need me for?" Fredrick asked, quickly getting himself an apple to eat from the fridge.

 _Desolas has gotten himself what I believe is a Harvester artifact. He's convinced the vast majority that these undead Turians are actually priests, and that becoming infected is a necessary means of our evolution, and that he plans on turning the vast majority of the Turian race to tear down the council and put Turians at the top. I don't know exactly how infection works, but last time I checked, he wasn't hellbent of Galactic-Domination,_ Saren explained. _I've been playing along for the last few weeks to see what he was up to. He's even ordered the kidnapping of a couple measly Human mercenaries to better understand controlling these things, the same Humans that started this mess in the first place._

"What's so special about these mercenaries?" Fredrick asked as he put on some civies. He was going to make a quick dash to the Aldrin Space Port, rally a couple of platoons, and head to Palaven to retrieve the artifact.

 _The artifact affected the mercenary named Jack Harper, but Harper didn't experience the full effects. The artifact has the ability to instantly corrupt those affected by its powerful jolts. He's already corrupted an entire crowd, and I've done all I can to alert the Palaven authorities. Please hurry! I think he might be onto me, I can explain more when you get here,_ Saren explained.

"Sit tight and stay away from Desolas, tell him you have matters to attend to. I'm on my way, and I'll be there ASAP," Fredrick told Saren before ending the call and leaving his home.

* * *

 **12 hrs/09 min/22 sec**

 **Palaven, Palaven Temple**

The city structures on Palaven were surprisingly similar to architecture of the Byzantine Empire, and demanded the same level of respect too. However, with the aura of old was an even mix of modern, as angular, metallic towers rose from among the huddled, ancient buildings. Fredrick and two dropships began to approach a landing zone just half a kilometer east of the Palaven Temple.

As Fredrick and his team began to approach the ground, Saren and a small team of Turian Infantry came out to meet him. "It's good to see you Fredrick, I presume your time back 'home' was appreciated?"

"Not exactly as I hoped it would, people back there are still taking their time to get used to change, much slower than I'd hoped for," Fredrick answered as the two began to make their way to the temple.

"Shame. I presume you've told them about the Harvesters?" Saren asked.

Fredrick sighed. "Not yet, we're still looking for presentable evidence of their existence. The last time we tried with the council, we only had a conference call and a bunch of studies concerning their capabilities. Simply put, they'll looked straight past the numbers and looked for visuals, which we had none. We can't afford to take the same blow to the face from our own kind, especially because they are new. The translators the Alliance had did prove helpful for translating a Prothean VI we found, but it turns out it's more damaged than we anticipated."

"Well, regardless of circumstances, thank you for arriving on such short notice. I've had the temple area quarantined, and I've found more to our current situation. There's another artifact buried within the walls of the temple that will drastically increase the artifact's area of if we don't stop Desolas. The two Human mercenaries and their corrupted compatriot are in there as well, and the inside of the temple is swarmed with what Desolase calls, 'Meta-Turians.' Of course, we both plainly know they are corrupted. Fortunately, they haven't taken any action outside of defending the artifact. Unfortunately, there is still the other artifact we have to take into consideration," Saren explained as the temple showed up in the distance.

"So, what's your plan Saren?" Fredrick asked.

"If we are going to get any needed evidence, we need either one or both of those artifacts. However, in case we are overrun, I do have several flagships in orbit ready to initiate an orbital bombardment of the temple. I know we'll likely lose the artifacts, but the safety of Palaven still stands," Saren replied as they walked around the troop placements outside of the temple.

"Alright, Beta Team will stay out here and cover our retreat if need be, Alpha Team will follow me inside, and provide Saren's team with cover. Be careful in here gentlemen, if that artifact starts showing any severe effects on you, we will have to shoot you." Beta Team took cover with the local Turian forces while Fredrick, Saren, and their respective teams began to enter the temple.

"What's going on here?" they heard a voice echo from the main chamber. Fredrick noticed in the far back a trio of Humans, a blond woman, a brown wavy haired man, and a short black hair and corrupted man wearing a navy blue cloak, and by the looks of things was gravely injured.

"That's Desolas, sounds like he's having trouble with the corrupted," Saren said.

"I don't know, General! They were placid as always—and suddenly, the broke ranks!" some unnamed subordinate yelled. Both teams had managed to enter unnoticed, and faced the backs of Desolace and the uncorrupted soldiers under his command. Suddenly, one of the Meta-Turians stepped forward, lurching towards the group, but had yet to truly telegraph its true intentions to Desolas.

Desolas stood in front of the corrupted Turian and began to bark orders. "This way leads outside! You can't have any purpose there! Now return to you- GAAWK!" the approaching monstrosity took a heavy swing at Desolas, sending him tumbling to the side.

Just then, Saren and Fredrick made their presence known, followed by Saren announcing, "Nobody move!" Unfortunately, the crowd of corrupted Turians quickly became agitated, and began to charge the group. "That's it, open fire!" Saren ordered.

Fredrick put up a biotic barrier, and the whole group began to fire upon the charging Meta-Turians. At this point, the trio of mercenaries made a move from their position and slipped around the side, getting through behind them to escape. Just as the situation seemed to be under control, a Meta-Turian jumped at Fredrick from above, causing him to drop the biotic barrier. Just as it was about to impale him with a sleek spear, Fredrick stabbed it in the side of the head, causing it to go slack. Just as he got up, a few more rained from above, having been hidden behind pillars and within the temple architecture.

"They're coming out of the cracks of the temple!" a Turian exclaimed.

"Man down! Man down!" a Terran soldier screamed.

Fredrick desperately fought off the Meta-Turians at close range, attempting to turn back the tide of the fight. He'd already lost half of the platoon, and the corrupted Turians continued to bleed out of every hole the temple had. Towards the back, he noticed that Saren was clashing with Desolas, and that the two male mercenaries were mourning the downed blond woman, who was now bleeding profusely from her head.

"Astounding technology, isn't it, Saren? She would've needed an orbital bombardment to scratch it – if then!" Desolas exclaimed as he stood over a temporarily stunned Saren. Saren then lashed out, knocking Desolas on his back before climbing on top and repeatedly punching his former brother.

"You've lost sight of what you're doing and what you've done, brother. You've allowed the artifact to blind you, and now it has you plotting to destroy your own people. You allowed it, and for _WHAT?_ And now, it's taking control away from you, because it no longer needs you, Desolas!" Saren screamed. Suddenly, Desolas managed a strong grasp on Saren's throat before tossing him back against the wall, leaving him stunned.

Desolas climbed to his feet and picked up a pistol that had been dropped on the floor. "Nonsense! I'm the only one pacifying them now. I just need more time to adjust the artifact so I can regain control. So call off the attack force outside!" he returned, threatening the now bleeding Saren at gunpoint.

Just then, more Meta-Turians began to drag the second artifact into the room. Just then, the brown haired mercenary stood up and walked behind Desolas. "That won't work Desolas! That was never going to work!" he argued.

Desolas whipped around, and trained the gun on the mercenary, saying, "I've had enough of you, Human! I should've done this a long time ago!"

The corrupted Human lept up from the dead woman and rushed over to Desolas, latching on and throwing both Desolas and himself at the artifact, jolting both with bright blue energy, dropping both to the floor.

While the remaining male mercenary carried out the dying woman, Fredrick rushed over to Saren's aid, threw one of his arms over his shoulder, and lifted Saren up. He quickly glanced at Desolas and scanned him one last time, revealing the traditional signs of complete infection. More of the Meta-Turians came crawling into the chamber, and now Fredrick's Alpha Team had been reduced to a mere four troops. "Fall back! There are too many, fall back! Saren, call in that orbital strike!" he yelled.

"Wait! Desolas is still there! We can save him! _I_ can save him!" Saren begged as the remaining Terrans and Turians began to back out of the main entrance, firing at the approaching corrupted.

As they all rushed outside, Beta Team laid down cover fire as Fredrick put Saren down and began to apply medical aid. "Your brother is gone, Saren. The last thing we can do is put him out of his misery. Besides, we're out of time, if they get those two artifacts together and do whatever the hell amplifies the signal, the whole division could be reduced to infected and corrupted. Make the call."

Saren simply sat there for a few seconds, taking heavy breaths. Fredrick recognized this scenario, and could completely empathize with Saren. He pulled up his omnitool and gave the order. "This is Commander Arterius, fire on those coordinates, ship master."

Only thirty seconds later, several beams of energy came raining down on the temple, engulfing everything in flames, and reduced the structure to dust and ashes.

* * *

 **15 hrs/01 min/33 sec**

Saren had continued to stare at the fallen temple, with Fredrick nearby, tending his troops' injuries. Just then, the wavy brown haired mercenary approached Fredrick. Unfortunately, his two companions couldn't be saved, and his face hung with survivor's guilt. "I appreciate the aid, sir, regardless of the outcome."

Fredrick grunted with a mixed sound of pain. He'd just lost a possible lead, and motivator for public action against the Harvester threat. Furthermore, he'd just forced Saren into anything he had left for family. "Thanks, but it's still a defeat in my book. There's no way we're getting those artifacts out."

"Why the hell would you want those things? You clearly saw what they were capable of," the mercenary asked, with suspicion.

"I wanted them for proof. Proof that we have a common enemy out there, and that it's genuine," Fredrick stated, taking note of the mercenary's glowing eyes. "Jack Harper I presume?"

"Yes it is. You have me at a disadvantage, Mr.…" Harper started, holding out his hand to shake.

"Müller. Major Fredrick Müller of the Terran Armed Forces," Fredrick answered, accepting the friendly gesture. "What the hell are you doing on Palaven?"

"Desolas wanted to know how I was minimally affected by the artifact, and how something similar would still grant those who the artifact… transformed… the ability to retain their intelligence." Just then, Saren drew their attention as he approached.

"Harper, I knew you were trouble, this whole debacle was caused by your hand! Had you not-!" Saren began to exclaim before Fredrick raised his hand to interrupt.

"Excuse me Mr. Harper, I've got a few things to attend to," he said before getting up and bringing Saren over a distance away from Harper. "Saren, listen to me for a moment," he said, trying to draw Saren's attention.

In Saren's tone and behavior, he saw himself back in 2069: angry, lost, numb, and ultimately injured by that one last thing he could truly feel attached to was damaged beyond repair, and had to be put down. He even recognized the same pain of euthanizing someone he cared for, someone who was ill, and someone who was prisoner in their own mind. He felt in the years afterward, this was the one emotion that slowed him down, kept him distracted when he should've been digging for more evidence. Had he gotten that done instead of proving T'zeros was truly behind Benjamin's kidnapping, he easily could've found a link to the Harvesters and provoked public action in half the time it took for him to complete the former. At this point, he couldn't afford to have Saren go through the same sidetracking.

"Saren, listen to me," Fredrick begged.

"Not now, Fredrick," he replied, trying to brush off Fredrick's arm.

"Saren, look," Fredrick interrupted with annoyance, pulling Saren around to face him. "I remember the first time I had to kill teammates when they became infected. They meant much of my youth to me, and their death hurt. I sought those who had indirectly caused their deaths, and wasted time doing so only to find a dead end when I should've been focusing on the real threat. You may still hold your grudges, but not while we have an escalating threat at the borders of our galaxy. Desolas is a figment of the past now, and you'd best put his memory behind you, or they will use his legacy against you," Fredrick explained, hinting at his own past.

Saren looked down gloomily, and took a deep breath. "Yeah, good point," he acknowledged with pain still hanging in his voice. "Anyways, what's the plan now?" Saren asked. "What would you have done differently?"

"We still need to prove the Harvesters are out there. Perhaps we could find some hidden proof or record of the Prothean Empire's final moments. If not, form a group of your own, prepare them instead to be able to rally the Galaxy for when the time comes," Fredrick said. "I need to return to certain matters. Perhaps you'll have more luck than I will Saren, take care."

With that, Fredrick nodded before returning to his own unit. While neither of the two would ever find justice for those they'd lost, neither could afford to do so when the Harvesters would abuse this divide to strike. He approached Harper who was talking to a few of the soldiers under his command.

"You have quite the record, Müller. Over one hundred years of constant service? Impressive. Perhaps you'd be interested in an offer I have, once I get back to Arcturus Station," Harper prompted.

"Why not tell me now and spare me the suspense?" he asked. Just then, a dropship landed by their unit, before troops began to board, carrying a body bag with Eva's body.

"I'd prefer if we were away from other species for this discussion."

* * *

 **Aug 30, 2157**

 **18 hrs/03 min/13 sec Local Time**

 **Arcturus Station**

Fredrick took another bite out of his rations bar. He'd just dropped off Harper and Eva Coré's body, and was currently eating his dinner. There would be a funeral for Harper's fallen comrades, not that he intended on attending it, but he was minimally interested in what Jack had to say.

He was looking out a station window, looking into the abyss when Jack walked up to him. "Hello again, Major Müller. I presume you have history with Saren?" he greeted.

"I was his mentor for almost two years, he's going to be a Specter, a special agent who works directly for the council," Fredrick explained.

"I see. Well, no doubt you still have interest in my offer," Harper said, gently bending the conversation towards his interest.

"Times are desperate, and I'm not exactly in any position to turn down an offer. My government and I are very aware that the artifact was made by an ancient race of synthetics that have been harvesting alien civilizations for millions, if not billions, of years. They are powerful, and have many assets on their side, the Relays included. This time, we're not letting that happen," Fredrick said, explaining his motives.

"I have no doubt about that, major. In fact, that would make you the ideal candidate for this proposition. I know Humans are still finding their place in this Galaxy, and that you natives of Khonsu have done so to some extent, and more. I especially admire how you've managed to alter your biology as a means of survival, and have put yourselves above the others in terms of physical capabilities," Jack explained.

"You're point being?" Fredrick asked.

"Simply put, I want to do the same with all of Humanity, Augmented or otherwise. We are currently the most vulnerable species within this community, and we need to be prepared for what lay in front of us and beyond. That is why I am making plans to form a group whose interests lay in protecting this progressive momentum for Humanity, and that our interests are equally promoted," Harper finished.

Fredrick couldn't help but break out into laughter, causing him to drop his helmet and protein bar. Out of all that Jack had just blurted out, he was having an increasingly hard time taking the man seriously. "I'm sorry," Fredrick apologized, still snickering. "Well, good luck with that venture Mr. Harper, because that is one hell of an upward climb you have," he said before continuing to laugh.

"Now, I understand that this is still a conceptual stage, but I have no doubts that-," Jack started.

"No no no no no, the concept is fine, it's just how you fucking presented and the context it resides in that's especially problematic," Fredrick chuckled. He wasn't going to explain how to better support the argument for a Pro-Humanity group, since he himself was against the idea. For starters, Jack Harper was only a soldier, and a mercenary at that, meaning he would have very little financial and political standing. Secondly, the only other Pro-Humanity group that stood currently was Terra Firma, which was a complete fuck-up in Fredrick's honest opinion. Finally, if such a group did manage to gain some traction, it still stood against a multitude of other races, meaning that if they did catch someone's attention, they'd be crushed like insects. "I'm sorry, excuse my behavior. Anyways, I think I'll pass on the proposition. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Jack!" he concluded as he ate the rest of his protein bar, before slipping on his helmet and returning to his ship.

"If that's the case, then so be it, Müller!" Harper shouted as Fredrick disappeared into the distance. "I'll let you know I'm well practiced in utilizing rhetoric in my arguments, and that I'm a very convincing individual!" Harper continued to bark back.

"Good luck with that!" Fredrick shouted before disappearing behind a door.

* * *

(P.S.): I'm sorry, regardless of how you depict Cerberus, they will always be to me Saturday Afternoon Cartoon Villains, complete with top hats, twirly mustaches, and tied ladies to train tracks like this is a goddamn black and white film. I'm pretty sure that's the premise for most of the ME player base anyways.


	5. Chapter 5: We Protect our Own

(A/N): Now, I'm very sorry that I may have caused some confusion for those who've been following me. I can imagine for those who haven't disabled receiving emails for whenever someone posts something new are thinking, "oh hey! Dr. Compass posted a bunch new- wait, it's a bunch of reposts." Now, I had to get this out of the way while I still could, because it simply had to happen. I can easily imagine how someone might be intimidated by the word count before even considering reading my story, and they'll be reading the synopsis when they see word count and be all, "ok, this seems like a good story, but why in hell are there +100K words?" So, to reiterate, I'm sorry.

Chapter 5: Take Care of Our Own

 _While the welcome back to Earth wasn't exactly as I hoped it to be, we are still obliged to protect and serve the civilians of the Alliance, as we are those of the Republic. As newcomers, people were suspicious of the Natural Humans, concerns they were expanding too quickly. Criminals of various stripes also saw opportunity, as they had yet to fully understand the criminal layer of the Galaxy. As such, Human tourists quickly fell victim to the dark corners of the unwatched Citadel._

* * *

He was both frustrated and tired. He, along with eleven others, had been shoved into a poorly designed combat arena, and forced to gun down any enemy wearing the garb of the opposing faction. When he or any of the others "died," they were quickly shoved right back into the fight in a random location in the arena like nothing had happened. For every "death" one team made, they scored one point to reach a total of seventy-five points before the match ended.

Regardless of how capable in combat he was otherwise, he was barely holding in the arena, and was fighting a losing battle. He was fighting his best, but his movement felt sluggish, kills came down to who could respond fastest, and the enemy team was abusing every poor design aspect of the arena to their advantage, from hiding in confined rooms, to flooding chokepoints with grenades and other explosives. While he had been able to score the most points of his team, the others were clearly not able to keep up. At most, he was able to delay anyone from calling down an immediate endgame.

He was running up the torn up simulated street and fired back at an opponent, downing him. He saw a sniper off in the distance, turned sharply, and dashed into another building to avoid incoming fire. Unfortunately, another enemy had already occupied the first floor of that building and had rigged the entrances with mines, and huddled in the corner with a shotgun.

Just right after the mine exploded and he got a good third person view of his corpse fly, the world went monochrome, before the score and red words spelling _"defeat"_ appeared before him.

 _"Defeated, don't let this happen again,"_ the announcer said. Fredrick groaned with increasing annoyance as he watched the recording of him rushing with panic through a door into the endlessly waiting mine, sitting where one could barely see it until it was far too late.

 **April 11, 2159**

 **15 hrs/23 min/02 sec**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **barracks, en route to the Citadel Station**

It had been about one hundred and fifty years since the release of the game, and even after multiple revisions, it was still a broken piece of shit in terms of balance. It was still a mystery to him how the company hadn't dissolved after so many years. It was a game some of the troops had bought on Earth two years back, and there were still plenty of Humans who played the damn game, especially with such controls meant for other games. None of the previously mentioned flaws had even taken into consideration the pay-to-win drop system that produced statistically superior weapons. "I don't understand why I fight for people like this," he growled as he shut off the console, and walked to the bridge. He didn't need to hear the screams of excessively celebrating children after the match.

For now, it was a new day, a new round of crime to stop, and get things done. While it wasn't still trying to find proof of the Harvesters' existence, Earth had to be physically ready before it could prepare for the war. Like he had told Saren, they'd yet to inform the Systems Alliance about the Harvesters purely for political reasons. The vast majority of Natural Humans had ideals conflicting with the alterations of the Khonsu natives, and as such would only compare them to the Harvesters if they didn't defuse any distrust first, or find sufficient evidence.

He entered the bridge to get to the Galaxy map, and came across another one of his old teammates, Mary Ross. "Hey Fred, sorry I couldn't haver back on Khonsu, so foos yer doos?" she started with a warm smile. She still wore her dark gray military camo, but now with dark purple stripes on it. The color pattern had long since become the norm for spec ops armor coloring, so she added an additional color to stay unique.

"All has been mostly well, Earth is still an absolute mess, but it's steadily improving. Finally got word that Saren finally got into the Specters, youngest Turian to do so, and he's doing me proud," Fredrick said. "So, how's wetwork been?" After Crimson was dissolved, Mary was naturally put in the special operations division, as per her set of skills and capabilities.

"All hee haw, a bunch of boggin bastarts died, I'd tell ya, but I cannae say a thing for 'Galactic security' purposes," she said, rolling her eyes.

Fredrick snickered with a sideways grin. "Fair enough. I'm still heading the operations for digging up Prothean shit, in hopes we might find anything that'll suggest their extinction at the hands of the Harvesters?"

"Is it because command thinks you're a Harvester and that we'll be using to fight fire with fire?" she asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Me? A Harvester? Absolutely not!" Fredrick spat. In reality, the question had crossed his mind multiple times, considering how often Nazara had contacted him. At most he was linked to their system, but he repeatedly told himself that he was in no way one of them.

"Tsk, shan as hell. I thought we'd have ourselves a winning hand," she responded as the two walked to the armory.

* * *

 **13 hrs/35 min/44 sec Local Time**

 **Citadel Station, Loading Docks**

The _Persistence_ did dock at its intended docking station, however, it did deploy Fredrick, Mary, and many other detachments of troops on dropships to various sectors across the Citadel. They were to reach their destinations in a more discrete manner if they were to get the drop on their targets. Normal Humans were still new, and the various pirate and mercenary factions saw the tourists on the Citadel Station as vulnerable and open for abuse, most notably slavers. On the Citadel were distinct districts where slavers would operate to capture isolated Human civies before loading them onto ships into the Terminus.

Fredrick and Mary turned to the men on his own gunship and spoke up to cease the banter among the troops. "Alright gentlemen, listen up. The 'welcome home' party on Earth may have been flat, but that doesn't mean we have no obligation to help them, not while they're still trying to get a foothold out here. For these next few weeks, we'll be clearing out pocket after pocket of these criminal scum."

Fredrick then let Mary carry on the briefing, as he felt her Scottish accent and behavior would better press the point of their objective. "Which means we'll be teaching these roasters a lesson and making an example. Fred, I, and other big yin of ours have been forming the stereotype that we're clarty bastards who'll cap some dobber then fack the corpse. Least we can do for the Alliance down here is associate us with the civies to some extent to give them artificial protection through reputation, which means no prisoners. Additionally, we'll be encountering civies along the way, meaning watch your aim. Whoever does manage to kill a civie, you get to send the death report," she explained.

"Is that clear?" Fredrick asked.

"Understood sir!" the group hollered.

The dropship came to a halt in the shadows over a mostly empty hanger, dropping off the group on a rafter overhead. The group proceeded down the railing, seeing various workers and civies down below, as well as an occasional squad of C-Sec officers pass by. They made their way into a warehouse area with various storage units. "Fan out, look for bio-signatures, then rendezvous at the far back before we check the next level."

The platoon broke into pairs and looked over row after row of warehouse, only to find not a single life form that resembled something Human. After all soldiers grouped up at an elevator to the far back, each group took account of their findings. "Shit, are you sure the intel is reliable Fredrick?" Mary asked. "They may be bampots, but they aren't dumb enough to store civies in plain sight."

"Fresh as can be, multiple disappearances in this sector, just like all the others that are being che-." He was interrupted when the large freighter elevator opened up to reveal two Salarian dockworkers with a large intermodal container behind them.

"Hey! What are you doing back here? This area is off li-," the Salarians started before Fredrick quickly drew his pistol and shot both in the legs, dropping them to the floor.

Mary simply rolled her eyes with annoyance and glanced at Fredrick. "You know, even if they were slavers, it would've been helpful to keep them alive, you goon."

Fredrick walked over to the dead pair of Salarians before knocking both out. "I'm pretty confident they wouldn't have acted so defensively if they were actual workers," he defended as he shuffled through their equipment. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they don't use pagers that look like this," he said as he pulled off both of their bio-logistic monitors. "Usually, the Citadel provides much better version of these pieces of junk."

Mary shrugged with sarcastic surrender. "Fine, fine, don't mind me," she grumbled as she yanked up one of the arms to look at the omnitool logistics. She pulled up an ID tag and extracted it to her own omnitool. "Mibay this'll help? It's a pretty high security rating."

Fredrick looked at the container and initiated his enhanced ocular vision to see around two-dozen civies, locked up in restraints. "Hold on, I've got a visual on captives. Help me open this thing." He holstered his rifle, and then punched the locking mechanism on the doors, before tearing the doors open, shedding light on the helpless people inside. It consisted of various Humans, all with tattered clothing and collars from their rough treatment. "Wonderful, targets acquired, now for the rest. Let's go, permission to go loud and open fire. Lieutenant, help me free them and escort them to the nearest C-Sec squad for treatment." He went to work with another soldier, breaking the bonds of the captives before the lieutenant and one other corporal left to escort the group to C-Sec.

"A'rite, going down laddies and lassies," Mary said, putting the stolen ID through with the control panel of the elevator before watching the doors shut and feeling the elevator shift into the bowels of the warehouse. "Elevator to heaven or hell, be r'dy," she muttered as she checked her machine pistol.

The elevator went down three levels before opening into another level with mercenaries of various species wearing gray armor crawling all over the area. "Weapons free!" Fredrick yelled, calling for a hail of particle beams on many of the unsuspecting mercenaries. As the elevator reached the bottom, Fredrick injected himself with an overclock stim and ran over to a warehouse monitor and interacted with it.

His mind quickly retreated into the warehouse interface, a _nd the world around him quickly faded away into the distance. He still remembered how to use the Harvester virus given to him, as seldom as he used it. While use did prove to be damaging to his nervous system, he figured using an overclock stim right before interfacing would allow him to recover much quicker than he normally would._

 _He continued to dig through the system before becoming attached to the security cameras and the power controls. He instinctively shut off the lights and watched from the cameras as the warehouse guards quickly became engulfed in darkness, and fell prey to the other Terran soldiers present. He also watched as Mary fired from the top of one of the shelves, missing not a single shot. Satisfied with his work, he retunred to th_ e normal world, bringing the expected pain from strain.

He slowly made his way back onto his feet before stumbling over to a shelving unit to take cover. He could still see, hear, and use some biotics beyond his pain, but most of his bodily capabilities and other senses were inactive until his body could properly recalibrate. Slowly, the pain subsided, and the world became more defined around him. As he finally returned to combat, Mary's voice finally came through on his telecom implants.

 _Fredrick, I love you and all, but would yah hawd running off without telling me what yer plan is?_ she asked.

"Sorry, turned off the lights, that should make things easier," he said as he pressed the elevator button, causing the lift to return to the top, preventing escape. "Same goes for the elevator."

 _If you insist,_ she responded, before another crack filled the room, sending a previously blood-enraged Krogan into permanent silence.

Amongst the darkness, the pirates were completely helpless. Without any proper light, the only capable fighters were those with helmets with any form of night vision. Even then, the enhanced vision of the Terran fighters granted them infrared vision in the pitch-blackness. For Fredrick, combat was a matter of lining up the shot and firing, or grabbing some helpless pirate and either hacking them open with a particle knife, or smashing them with his bare hands like fragile fruit.

Merely ten minutes had passed before the pirates had finally turned the lights back on, however, far too late to make a difference. What had been roughly a well-invested number of two hundred had been quickly cut down to less than half-strength. Many of them had retreated to the front elevator, and even broke out a few slaves as living shields. By the time they had hailed the elevator and met a stand off with the surrounding Terran soldiers, only twenty remained, except they held ten Human hostages.

"We've got you outmaneuvered, Wolf! Give up! Same goes for you, Hawk!" some random Turian ordered, holding a panicking woman in his grasp.

"Oh, wonderful, you've got I hostage. I'm proud that you used your brain," Fredrick spat. "Tell me, what do you think would happen if you killed her? Do you think that'll help you escape any faster? I'm pretty sure C-Sec would have no qualms against me killing every last one of you," Fredrick threatened. "Maybe your deaths will slip under everything else C-Sec manages to fail to notice, cycle after cycle."

From biometrics, Fredrick could tell they were beginning to hesitate. Just as the elevator came into clear view, a booming voice came over the loud speakers. _"Freeze! This is Citadel Security! We have you surrounded! Weapons on the ground and hands behind your head!"_ In this moment of confusion, the Terrans troops had lined up their shots, and fired at each of the soldiers holding the civilian hostages, dropping them to the floor. With all their advantages lost, the remaining pirates surrendered, dropping their weapons to the floor, slowly and regretfully.

* * *

 **16 hrs/22 min/43 sec**

Hours passed, Fredrick, Mary, their unit, and members of C-Sec gradually broke out almost a thousand slaves from compartments within the warehouse. Unfortunately, with C-Sec now present, they were obliged to let the officers handle the rest of the case for them. Fredrick had gotten word out to Alliance HQ back on Arcturus Station that they had just liberated a large number of captive civilians. Fredrick turned to the C-Sec officers, as they began to ship them off to lock up. "Thank you gentlemen for the assist, may I speak to your squad sergeant?"

"Right here, Wolf. I appreciate the assist you and your men have provided, but I'd like to discuss something of graver importance," a dual toned voice growled behind him. Fredrick turned to face a young gray plated Turian with blue markings across the middle of his face. "My name is Officer Julianos Vakarian, I already know of you by reputation alone, major," Julianos spat.

Fredrick was confused as to why Officer Vakarian was acting so hostile. "Forgive my ignorance, but may I ask how I may have already set bad impressions?"

"For starters, you commit to a bust without a warrant. Secondly, you continued to use lethal tactics when there could've been civilians nearby. Thirdly, you and your men still attack multiple hostiles without taking precautions as to the safety of the hostages they held. Finally, we had no idea you would be here because you had no intent of telling us about this station wide operation of yours. In the Turian Military, those are grounds for dismissal, Müller," Julianos argued with annoyance, like he was a trainer and Fredrick was a recruit.

"I knew what I was doing, Officer Vakarian. Besides, I know that a few criminals have a few fingers in C-Sec, and any word at C-Sec could've easily given them the drop on us, allowing for an ambush or enough leeway for them to slip away before we arrived. My duty is to the safety of my people," Fredrick argued.

"But at what cost? What actions will you take to meet the same ends it would've normally occurred to follow the rules? Regulations exist for a reason, and I believe it's these same actions and behaviors that have earned the distrust of you Alliance friends. You feel like you're a Specter, free to do as you please without suffering the repercussions, especially that new one, Arterius. He has no regard to safety, yet the Council treats him like their own child," Julianos continued to chastise.

Fredrick reached forward and put a hand on Julianos' shoulder pad, and spoke with the best he could in the Turian tongue. _"Alright, fine, feel free to question my actions, and maybe question who I am. But don't question my motives, and don't question where I come from."_

Julianos simply responded by putting his own hand on Fredrick's shoulder pad, and spoke in possibly the best imitation of English he'd ever heard from a Turian. _"Maybe I will, Major Müller. Just be aware I'll be keeping an eye on you the next time you set foot on this station."_

Fredrick grunted with mild surprise, before continuing, _"It's a shame we've met on such fragile terms, Vakarian. I'll be looking forward to the next time we meet, maybe we'll exchange stories then."_

 _"Hmmm, don't let the door hit you on the way out,"_ Julianos said as both drew their hands and turned their separate ways.


	6. Chapter 6: Get Off the Lawn

(A/N): Happy Thanks Giving to the lot of you, and now it's right back to trying to write enough content for the span of twenty-three years to fill the time between now and ME1. I've believe I'll be writing around 7-9 chapters till I meet the apparent fifty thousand word average I'm apparently aiming for. Also, this might actually become a personal project required for my college activities, so I do greatly appreciate any critique.

Chapter 6: Get Off the Lawn

 _The Blue Suns, another faction to add onto the ever growing list of people and organizations that want me publicly strung up for everyone to see. Not that anyone will ever manage to subdue me in such a manner, but it still does have me looking over my shoulder every now and then. They started out as a security service, but inevitably became Humanity's Galactic crime syndicate. Much like the Blue Suns we know to day, they were nothing short of incredibly annoying to deal with._

* * *

 **Feb 09, 2161**

 **22 hrs/05 min/27 sec**

 **Armstrong Nebula, aboard the TMD** _ **Sokol**_

The Skyllian Verge was a stretch of the Galaxy that did harken back to early days for Veterans and the elderly in the Terran Republic. It represented a place in the Galaxy they fought their first battles, specifically against the Batarians. Even towards their end of the cluster of systems, pirates of various suits still used the area for their various pursuits, though it was proven to be much harder to set up in the Armstrong Nebula. While the Terrans largely kept to themselves, they did put movements forward towards stomping out any activity remotely close to their turf.

Two mercenaries by the names of Zaeed Massani and Vido Santiago had founded the group a year ago, and have been surprisingly effective. The group had exorbitant prices, but they got the job done and cleanly. In its current state, the group primarily composed of just Humans, but the group was rapidly growing, and could easily have added other races to their ranks within the next few years. Since the Harvesters were still the greatest of the Terran Republic's concerns, all they wanted to achieve with the Blue Suns is that they keep their operations far away.

They'd already set a small foothold in the planet Rayingri in the Gagarin System, as a means of early expansion. They very well knew that the Systems Alliance would gradually expand into the sector, and wanted to set up shop early while they could get dibs on good planets. In this early stage, it meant that the job was simply to flush the stations out before they could get too far underground.

Fredrick stood on the bridge looking over the same orbital images he'd received from UAVs sent over the facility, thinking over a plan. So far, the camp was largely composed of prefabs, with minimal solid infrastructure, and only a single heavy barrier generator and AA guns to protect it from heavy fire. However, that barrier generator meant that they couldn't carry out a successful orbital bombardment until they either cut its power, or destroyed it. Public imagery wasn't required this time around, so he wasn't going to send a platoon of soldiers just to destroy the generator, as it would've been completely unnecessary. What he was about to do was much dumber for someone of his rank.

He turned of the projection and turned to a deck officer. "Officer, I want you to put us in a trajectory over the target, I'll be going in alone."

"Understood Major Müller. I'll have a personal transport prepared for you," the officer saluted.

"No need for it until after the mission. For now, just pass over, drop me, and keep out of visual range until I give the order to fire. I'm not sure if the Blue Suns have any long range detectors, but no doubt they'll see us if we hang around for too long. I'll be down there, cut the power to the barrier generator, and I'll call for a dropship for extraction," Fredrick explained. "For now, I'll be making my way down via HALO jump, so prepare the port-side airlock."

The officer stared back with alarm before nodding. "Very well, major. I'll do as ordered."

Fredrick made his way down a single deck and approached the portside airlock. Normally, the airlocks were used only for garbage/hazardous waste disposal, but were designed to be big enough for other occasions if needed. In Fredrick's case, it's for deploying in orbit without a vehicle. He stepped and stared at the other set of doors as he put his helmet into place, hearing the pressurized seals hiss.

 _"Are you ready major? I'll open the doors on your word,"_ the deck officer said over the intercoms.

Fredrick shut his eyes, and took a deep breath before opening them back up, and breathed out. "Do it, I'm ready."

 _"Good luck down there, major! I'll have a squad at the ready if you need help,"_ the officer said one last time before the airlock doors shot open, and he went tumbling out into the vacuum.

At first, he was flailing and tumbling out of control before he used his biotics to propel himself into an aerodynamic formation. As he dashed through space like an arrow, he could see the red horizon of Rayingri, and angled himself downward. As he began to enter the planet's atmosphere, he began to burn on entry, prompting him to initiate his nanite shield. After completely entering the atmosphere, he allowed the nanites to retreat into his body and continued to rapidly descend to the ground unprotected. As he finally reached less than fifty meters, he turned his body around to fall feet first, and surrounded himself in a green biotic bubble, slowing his remaining fall severely, but not without leaving a relatively small crater in his wake.

The lime green ball of energy dissipated, revealing Fredrick down on one knee. After taking a few breaths from the effort expended ensuring his safe landing, he slowly rose to his feet and stood up. He proceeded to contact the bridge of the bridge officer for a quick report. " _Sokol,_ this is Wolf, I've made it safely to the ground. Where is my location relative to the Blue Suns camp, and have I been spotted?" he asked.

 _Bad news is, you've overshot by seven kilometers, sir. Worse news is you've got a vehicle heading your way. I suggest you get to a good hiding spot,_ the deck officer informed.

"Good work officer, Wolf out," Fredrick answered before hiking up a small hill and getting behind a small boulder. The fact someone was actually responding was good news. If he did overshoot by a long shot, he could still hitch a ride back to the camp via the patrol's ship. A good fifteen minutes later, a repainted M35 Mako came rearing in the distance, and Fredrick did his best to stay hidden and used his biotics to dissipate his bodily heat to hide him from the Mako's radar system.

The transport came to a swerving halt alongside the crater he made before everyone aboard began to exit. He could hear some of the mercenaries argue as the made their way to the newly formed hole in the ground. "I'm telling you, boss. The piece of shit is poorly designed, I'm actually a good dri-," some young-sounding mercenary started.

What Fredrick presumed to be the squad leader had a gruff, gravely, British accent, and a temper that rivaled his own. "Save the squealing, muffin! You can adjust the tin can all you want when we get back to the base! For now, I want to know what the hell landed here," he said as he approached the crater.

"Uh, boss? I can clearly tell from the crater alone that whatever landed was vaporized upon impact. Beside, there is no way in hell anyone could've survived a fall like that, even with biotics. And as far as I can tell, no piece of machinery could've survived that, and crawled out leaving no tracks," a mercenary with a thick, Easter European accent stated.

"No excuses, Yuri! Fan out and look! I'm not taking any chances! If all of you tits report nothing, and some godforsaken probe compromises us, I'll have the lot of you neutered like fucking choirboys! Move!" the man barked, slugging some subordinate across the helmet.

The mercenaries began to sweep the area, and Fredrick initiated his cloaking implants, and dashed over to the side of the Mako. He slowly climbed on top and lay prone while the Blue Suns continued to search the area. Another ten minutes passed by, and he was truly starting to feel the physical strain on his eezo cores. He finally felt some relief when he saw the mercenaries begin to return.

"Hmmph, since you wankers have done a lovely job of finding what landed from orbit, I suppose there's no use dawdling around out here. I want a security sitrep when I get back, this may have been a distraction, now get moving," the cranky British commander ordered.

As all the soldiers loaded back onto the Mako, Fredrick decloaked and injected himself with an overclock stim. He still needed his biotics to disperse his heat signal on the way back if he was going to remain hidden from the Mako's radar. The next twenty minutes consisted of barely hanging on to the top of the vehicle as it bounced over even the smallest hills, and the smallest of turns threatened to flip the vehicle over. At most, he could complement the vehicle's ability to stay upright on even the steepest slopes that the driver for some reason tried to transverse.

Eventually, he came into sight of the Blue Suns camp, and eyed the base as he rapidly approached. As he got readily closer, he reinitiated his cloaking implants, and slid off as the Mako came to a halt in a small garage. After the Mako unloaded, he waited for the group to unload before sabotaging the Mako's radar. He knew from analyzing the vehicle back on Earth that despite all the flaws the vehicle had, it could easily see through cloaking devices. Though countering frequencies could easily jam the radar, the onboard monitors would make the presence of such frequencies clear.

He exited the garage and quickly dashed behind a prefab to decloak behind. As per the commander's orders, patrols had quickly increased around the base, making sneaking around increasingly difficult. During moments when guards were looking, he made a quick dash from cover to cover, maintaining subtlety regardless of his armor color. He snuck through he heart of the camp, either crawling under prefabs, hiding behind crates, and cloaking through heavily patrolled areas. Eventually, he'd made it to the other side of the camp, where the barrier generator was located. The barrier generator was incredibly robust, and was used by colonists as a means of protecting themselves from harsh weather conditions, meteor showers on planets that had thinner atmospheres, and bombardments from pirate groups.

He quickly circled the machine and made it to the back, where the power cables fed into the back of the machine, and began to work on severing the cords. The generator was offline at the moment, so no one would notice it was failing to power up until he'd called in the orbital strike. Then, as an effective measure, he opened up a panel and cut additional cords feeding in coolant. Withdrawing his hand from the machine, he initialized a call to the _Sokol._

" _Sokol,_ this is Wolf. I've successfully sabotaged the Blue Suns base's protection. You are clear to initialize a bombing run on my current coordinates," he ordered.

 _This is the_ Sokol _Bridge, we hear you loud and clear, Major. We'll be coming in, and will send down that troop transport to collect you afterwards. Will you be able to reach a minimal safe distance in time?_ the deck officer asked.

"That won't be a problem. Wolf out." He cloaked, and ran like hell across the rocky plane he was on towards the safety of a mountain in the distance. No doubt, that they would see the dust created and the footprints left by his invisible form, but that wouldn't matter. He was capable of outgunning them if he had to. As he hid behind another hill, he decloaked and looked back at the base. A small ship managed to take off in the distance just as a hail of orange particle beams rained down from the sky upon the remaining unsuspecting crew on the camp.

 _Target hit, major. Pickup will arrive in five,_ the bridge officer reported. The next few minutes passed by, as Fredrick watched the dropship approach in the distance. Just as the dropship arrived, the deck officer called him one more time. _Sir, the mercenary commander is calling and is asking for you, should I put him through?_

Fredrick contemplated for a moment. No doubt it was for an endless string of empty death threats, but then there was always the possibility the opponent had something interesting to say. "Connect the call, officer. He just might have something to say for himself," he answered as the dropship door sealed behind him.

At first there was silence as the call transferred to the mercenary before the same British, gravely voice came through. _Well well, I knew there was something up with that asteroid. I do apologize, but I never received a name. May I ask to whom I'm speaking?_

Fredrick was surprised at the tone the enemy commander held. It wasn't so much anger that he'd lost men and assets, and more like he'd just lost a game of chess. "The name is Major Müller, but I'm mostly referred to as Wolf in your line of work."

There was a long chuckle before a brief pause from the commander taking a breath. _Heh, so I finally meet the well-esteemed Wolf. My name is Zaeed Massani, founder of the Blue Suns. Anyways, I presume there is a cause to your shenanigans here today?_

Fredrick decided to play along with the otherwise polite tone Massani now had. "It's nothing personal, Mr. Massani. We hold nothing personal against you or your Blue Suns for the moment, it's simply because we wish to maintain a crime-free sector near our home system. We have no problem with you carrying on with crimes otherwise until it does affect us, whether it is directly or indirectly. I hope you and Mr. Santiago do understand."

 _It's fine, Wolf. You very well know yourself this operation has only been in place for a year, and we're still finding our way around the neighborhood. Anyways, I understand the house rules now. I hope to see you personally at some point, Mr. Müller. Maybe we could even talk over a pint,_ Massani chuckled.

"Excellent, I'll be looking forward to it," Fredrick said sarcastically, as the dropship began to exit the atmosphere for the _Sokol._


	7. Chapter 7: Vases and Faces

(A/N): Now, the main reason I have included all these various characters that are seen later in the canon Mass Effect timeline is because I want to merge the character roster/universe with my own character roster/universe fragment in such a way that both pieces remain solid while simultaneously merging with the other. This cannot happen if Fredrick has absolutely no experience with any of the characters before he meets them, especially considering his own age, and the age of other individuals (e.g., Wrex). As the "grizzled war veteran" figure along side (once more) Wrex on the SR1, this is to add another elder member among a crew of "kids." Also, this one took me a while, as I didn't really have anything solid or good to go in this space until I thought of it.

Chapter 7: Vases and Faces

 _The Galaxy is no stranger to discrimination, yet here we are, still lashing out at each other. I'm very aware I shouldn't be surprised, given my own prejudice towards Batarians in general. However, my prejudice isn't found on false cause, and I still can't help but feel disappointed towards the Normal Humans and their general inability to better defuse the prejudices formed amongst their own. I would've though after years of the same turmoil on Earth, they'd have learned to be an accepting people._

* * *

 **July 4, 2163**

 **12 hrs, 31 min, 10 sec**

 **Presidium, Citadel Station**

"Shame you're stuck here, keeping these animals back. I can't believe the Alliance is completely incapable of establishing self-control. I thought with them around, things might change for the better, yet here they are, another layer to the intergalactic sludge," Saren spat with a pitiful tone. "Your government is still on the hunt for the Harvesters, correct?" Fredrick and Saren were currently at a Levo/Dextro Café on the Presidium, and were having tea with each other.

"We are, and we're not giving up until we stop every last one of them. Now, I presume you've had minimal luck?" Fredrick answered, after putting down his cup and raising a brow. Fredrick agreed with Saren's standpoint. Everyone from Earth had been given a much longer time to become accustomed to the ideal of adjusting to other cultures and races, compared to where Humanity had been last in the late 2020s. Perhaps it was because they didn't have the same level of isolation-shock that everyone on Khonsu had, prompting an appreciation with the things they did have. Regardless of whatever cause, both the public behavior and the political activities of the Systems Alliance were inexcusable.

Saren grunted with frustration after putting down his cup. "I _still_ can't believe my superiors reported no findings when they dug through that rubble back on Palaven. I thought we could've at least found a fragment of something to prove the Harvesters are real. Unless, the Harvesters have gotten to them first?" Saren hypothesized.

"Are you positive that the higher levels of the Hierarchy might compose of infected?" Fredrick asked. "Maybe I could go in, check, diagnose, and euthanize if it really is that bad."

"Worse. I can't help but wonder if the Council itself is entirely infected, or at least Tevos is and that she will infect councilor after councilor until the job is done," Saren continued.

"That wouldn't be too much of a misguided accusation, that would certainly explain my own interactions with her. I should've taken the time to check," Fredrick said, taking another sip of his tea. "Anyways, I've heard you've taken a protégé of your own, Saren. May I ask for his name?"

"Ah yes, Nihlus Kryik, a bright, if not increasingly bold child. He's proven himself to his superiors to be tactical and an annoyance. He wanted more, and I offered to give him a helping hand. If I'm as any good as you were, I'll have him ready by 2165, or I could beat the record and go for next year," Saren chuckled.

"I have no doubt that you can get the job done," Fredrick said, finishing his tea. "Anyways, I should go. Angry, rioting, dumb people aren't going to disapate themselves." Bidding Saren farewell and putting on his helmet, Fredrick waltzed out of the café and made his way to the Zakera Ward. He couldn't help but feel happy for Saren, seeing that he contributed to putting Saren on a path much better than the path he was destined for. While it is a rougher path, no soldier goes through life without scars, and everyone was going to have scratches regardless, considering the Harvesters.

As much as he wanted to continue preparing for the Harvesters, he couldn't leave the rioters for C-Sec to clean up. For every anniversary of the First Contact War's end, Terra Firma would host various riots across various Human-inhabited sectors, Earth being the most chaotic. The best they could do to show courtesy to the rest of the community was to clean up the rioters themselves until the Alliance could properly clean things up themselves. Fredrick couldn't help but feel annoyed that the Alliance wasn't diverting any resources inwards, instead of the expansion outward.

He watched as the elevator exterior went from pristine white walls to the dreary gunmetal gray of the wards. Eventually, he saw the elevator come to a halt at the bottom and open up to reveal the bustling crowds. As he stepped out, he began to make his way to the usual location in the Human district where protesters would go to each year, and where a Terran division would set up to keep the rioters from getting too excited. He was about half way when a Human news reporter suddenly jumped him.

"Hello, my name is Megan Kellie, I report for the Westerlund News. Am I correct to presume you are Major Müller of the Terran Armed Forces?" the blond woman asked.

Fredrick leaned on one leg, and crossed his arms in annoyance. "Why is my identity the concern of the Alliance news network? And just what is it you think you can achieve here today?" he asked, glaring at the hovering camera behind her.

"I know you very well know about it, and the rest of Alliance space knows it too. People are still embittered by the outcome of the First Contact War, and are willing to utilize their free speech to change it. I want to get the opinion of the opposing side of today's conflict," Kellie stated.

"Tell me Ms. Kellie, is it report or slander? I know enough of Earthly history to know that being fair or balanced is a nearly extinct practice, so don't lie to me when you say you want to put me and my men in a fair light," he spat.

Megan Kellie sighed as she tapped her data pad. "Many people are still trying to bring themselves to get off Earth, and the colonists on the frontier of the Attican Traverse need to hear the news from home. After all, they are a long ways from home, much like the colonists of Delta Station long ago? You've got to recognize that we have a natural need for information, major," she argued as the camera floating behind her lit up.

"Fair enough, I suppose I play along for now for the cameras." Fredrick straightened up and put his hands behind his back in an eased stance, bracing himself tor the inevitable slew of loaded questions.

"Great! Now, we've been hearing multiple reports that-," she started before the two, and everyone around them were briefly engulfed in blue bolts of energy. Suddenly, her datapad and camera died, and the camera behind her came crashing down with a dull "clang" on the ground. In the affected radius, electronics of all sorts were suddenly dying, or experiencing power surges. Fredrick dropped the pin in his right hand, plucked a used EMP grenade from his bandolier, and tossed it aside.

"Oh, dearest apologies Ms. Kellie, I have a bad inclination of hating publicity. Anyways, I'll be on my way, have a safe afternoon," he replied with dripping sarcasm, chuckling as he walked away as she attempted to restart her camera. He'd only just met the woman, yet she'd already presented herself in a way that'd caused him to lose all sense of self-respect.

Without further interruption, he'd made it to the Alliance district, where the yearly protests were usually held. At the front were a few Terran soldiers arguing with a group of Alliance naval officers. "Captain, with all due respect, we know you are docking and have multiple families aboard. However, we can't have anyone exit just yet, lest we risk their safety with the riots," on of the heavily armored Terran troops begged.

"Bullshit! We're already behind on schedule due to repairs alone, and I still have yet to see through multiple transfers, refueling and resupplying, as well as a few new upgrades that need to be put in! I want a word with your CO about this!" some hotheaded naval officer said in response.

"Right here, captain. What seems to be the problem?" Fredrick asked.

"Oh, about time!" the captain complained. "I'm shocked and appalled by the discipline you maintain among your subordinates, major. Anyways, I want to properly dock, so I can continue and return to my post on Eden Prime."

"My corporal has probably said it already, and I'll reiterate, permission denied. Protocol mandates that during the situation of a riot, civilians are to stay back until the civil unrest has properly dispersed. I care for your people as much as you do captain, so for their sake, just keep them aboard till the riot ends, or it is moved somewhere further away from the docks." Fredrick was becoming increasingly annoyed with how stubborn this captain was, and was surprised such an individual managed to reach a rank.

"Daddy? What's going on?" A small child, no older than nine, walked from the dock they were at, from behind the captain Fredrick was arguing with.

The captain sharply turned around and got on a knee before saying, "Timothy, go back to the ship, we're not ready to dock yet. I'll let you know when you can get off, alright?"

"Captain, for your kid's sake, just get back to the ship and lock the door. I'll see what I can do to control the riots, but you have to stay low till we manage to push to a safe distance," Fredrick argued.

"Yes yes, just get to work, Müller," the captain said before herding off the others back to the docked ship.

He turned back to his placement of soldiers as the finished setting up barriers to block off mob rushes. "I presume everything is ready, sergeant?" he asked one of the higher-ranking soldiers.

"Yes sir, we've got units at each of the crucial sectors of the Alliance's civilian district. We also have enough supplies to last us for the average length these protests go for, so we shouldn't have to worry about running low on tear gas anytime soon," the sergeant answered, handing him a datapad.

"Good. Stay sharp and keep an eye out for any new toys the rioters bring this year. As per usual, I want to avoid a blood bath on both sides if possible. I was just jumped by Westerlund News on the way here, and I narrowly got away, but I doubt that this year will escape all publicity," he ordered.

"Sir, C-Sec squad inbound," another soldier pointed out a C-Sec squad car approaching and landing nearby.

Julianos Vakarian stepped out and approached Fredrick and his men, followed closely by three other officers. "Major Müller, good to see you this year. Here to make another mess for me to clean up?" Vakarian hissed.

Fredrick turned to face the Turian and answered, "If I recall correctly, I was the one pulling you out of your squad car after you got shot down by an RPG last year. Besides, not too many people died, and there was nothing we could do about a poorly maintained rocket launcher."

"Then perhaps I should remind you that it was fear of you that they brought such heavy weaponry. I suggest you move your troops and allow me to take control today," Vakarain returned.

"I don't think so, Officer Vakarian. As well esteemed as you may be as a C-Sec officer, you wouldn't last half an hour against rioters like these." Terra Firma had no qualms against letting extremists within the party do as they please, because it would be "harming" their free speech. With such freedoms for these extremists, the party received a lot of flak from both other races, and other Humans. "At most, you can stay at the side, if we do need help from C-Sec."

"Fine. But this time, you'll be cleaning up the corpses." The yearly mess was something that the two both wished could cease to occur, but was unfortunately caused by the increased friction between their two races.

Fredrick turned back to the growing crowd, as well as the banners and signs that were hoisted over the mass. It was nothing unexpected from the various, "make those dinos pay," to "remember ShanXi," and many other phrases that may as well have said "we don't want alien-lovers in power." What was increasingly earning his ire was a new sign that was showing up, labeled "God hates Augs," "Purity over Efficiency," and "rust in hell, tin can." It started to remind him of the negative vibe he received as a child from the older children, that quickly faded as implants and genetic modification became commonplace. Even after explaining hundreds of times over, everyone on Khonsu would've died or not existed if it weren't for their biological modifications, and the conflict wouldn't have existed.

After another grueling ten minutes, the crowds began their march, and his unit began to line up with riot shields and railguns loaded with stun rounds and gas canisters. The objective was simply to keep the protestors as far away from the Alliance HQ as possible, easier said than done of course. At some point, he needed to inquire how the public got ahold of Alliance-made grenades.

Hours passed since the start of the protests, and gradually the rioters gradually moved away from the Alliance HQ. Fredrick silently cursed the individual who planned to put the HQ so close to the docks as he felt the eyes of the captain glaring at him, like he was watching from the cockpit. He worried more so about hurting the dumb, suicidal rioters at the other side of his shield, as they'd toss grenades they'd stolen from the barracks, or various other improvised implements. He'd narrowly convinced Vakarian and his squad to simply clean up afterwards, taking into custody especially troublesome protestors who'd began to damage property, or where in possession of HE grenades.

* * *

 **16 hrs/03 min/45 sec**

 **Systems Alliance HQ, Human District, Citadel Station**

Another day passed and another day wasted, beating unnecessarily angry civies with shields, stun rounds, and tear gas. Fredrick would've honestly preferred to oversee progress in the labs, seeing to ever-more efficient shields and weapons. If the Harvesters were really capable of forcing race after race into extinction, no doubt they'd reduced even the most militarily advanced races of the past to ash. As pointless as it may seem, even a ghost of a chance would've helped.

"I hope you've had your fun, major. I'm almost six hours behind schedule by now, and I very well could've been at my new station," the captain complained.

"I'm as interested in the safety of civilians as you are, captain. I know there are people out there who still need you more, but I can't afford to cut corners and throw caution to the wind. Not when I have incredibly angry people on my plate who've managed to arm themselves with incendiaries and frags," Fredrick countered.

The captain simply sighed, and said, "I'm aware that you seek to improve relations between us and the other races, but the truth is, you're not. As much as you may think you're helping to qualm these yearly riots, you're only exciting them. I'm confident that the new chants from the riot got the point across to you."

Fredrick shifted onto another leg, and continued, "if you want to take the brunt of these riots on your own, so be it. We'll hold back from here on out if that's what it takes to help the Terra Firma party to lose momentum."

"Dad? Mom's already aboard, are you still coming?" Timmy called from across the lobby. The small child had his backpack over his shoulder and a small action figure in his hands.

"I'll be there in a moment," the captain called. "I know you want to show the Alliance that you wish to maintain a friendly relationship, but maybe you should listen to our input every once in a while to see what we want instead of blindly blundering through."

"I'm aware, but as the Alliance is still a newcomer in the Galactic-Political stage, we wish to guide the Alliance in ways that will positively affect their public image. Even I'm feeling a bit wary about your rapid expansion through the Attican, but it's probably because it edges so close to Batarian territory," Fredrick said, completely winding down from arguing earlier.

"Just let us handle the Batarians. You managed to get through them without too much damage taken, I don't see why we can't," the captain continued, as he began to turn to his child.

"Even if we were out numbered, we had them outgunned. How we got our tech is still largely classified."

"Well, sorry I must leave you, major"

As the two exited the HQ, he followed behind at a distance. He watched as the captain followed closely behind the young Timmy to the docks of a carrier, with the name "SSV _Einstein_ ," painted on the side. As he watched them disappear onto the ship, he couldn't help but feel a small tinge of jealousy. _"The universe believes otherwise,"_ he reminded himself.

After watching the _Einstein_ depart, a Terran soldier approached him saying, "Major, a woman wanted to speak with you, said it was important," the sergeant claimed as he saluted.

Fredrick turned around, only to be severely disappointed by the sight of Megan Kellie. Without further delay, Kellie immediately jumped on him, asking "major, I want your input about the most re-"

"Oh for _Christ_ sake, just fuck off already!" he growled, walking off around her.


	8. Chapter 8: Regret

(A/N): At this point, I'm happy for any idea of whether or not this story is coming out well or not. I'm using this as a project for college, so I like to have this work not seem amateurish when I do have to present it to anyone important. I might keep the pace up on the story, as I want to get this done hopefully within the confines of a reasonable schedule. Thanks guys, because I could use all the mental support now that finals week is closing in fast. I know I should probably pick up a copy of ME:Revelations and read the exact words and events, but time is of the essence right now. As this will include minor details from ME:Rev, I will repeat that I don't own Mass Effect, and that it belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

Chapter 8: Regret

 _I can't help but wonder how events would've proceeded had I raised Saren in a better light. Would he still go on to suffer the fate he did? And why did it take me so long to realize the foul I had committed? Maybe I thought that having him follow my shadow would help put "me" on two fronts against the Harvesters._

* * *

 **Sept 20, 2165**

 **15 hrs/13 min/01 sec**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **med bay, en route to the Citadel Station**

Fredrick stood outside the med bay and stared at the most recent resident to the facility, Zaeed Massani. Only a few hours, he had received an anonymous tip that a deal was occurring at trade port deep into the Terminus system. He took the _Persistence_ in to investigate, keeping a wary head about his environment, looking out for signs of a trap. When he finally arrived at the supposed site, all he found were an empty warehouse, monitors completely wiped of information, and a dying Massani lying in the middle of the warehouse and quickly bleeding out from a severe head wound.

He quickly had Massani retrieved and taken back to the _Persistence_ for interrogation. Zaeed was lucky, and was only put into a coma from the injury, but would require some minor rehabilitation before he could make a full recovery. Fredrick gave him a small dose of nanites that were currently reconstructing damaged brain tissue, skull structure, and the forehead epidermis, but would need to take a break from physical strain before he could provide them any information about Blue Suns activity within their sector.

Fredrick walked into the med bay when he started to notice Massani slowly shift awake to see if Zaeed's condition was improving. Immediately, Zaeed's hand went to his bandaged head to take full account of his injury before grumbling, "ungh, what the bloody hell happened?"

Fredrick pulled up a swivel chair and sat beside the bed Zaeed resided in. "I was hoping you'd tell me, Massani. We'd received an anonymous tip about Blue Suns activity where we found you. When we did catch up, we found nothing but you, severely bleeding from the head, and stripped down to your undersuit. Is there anything you remember from before your injury?" he asked.

Leaning up in his bed, Massani looked at Fredrick with a mix of confusion and hesitation. "Wolf? Interesting. I didn't think we'd meet without at least one of us being in restraints or severely wounded."

Fredrick shrugged before answering, "you were dying and I figured that keeping you behind bars wouldn't be a good motivator for the interrogation. Regardless of your activities, Mr. Massani, I respect you and the tactics you deploy. It's refreshing to have an enemy that one must properly outwit, and I figured I should show some courtesy while you are aboard my ship. It'll help with the inevitable slew of questions I'll ask."

Massani simply chuckled, but was unable to hide a tingling annoyance at the back of his mind as his smile faded. "Well, sorry to disappoint, Wolf, but what you'd just arrived at was the aftermath of a betrayal. Santiago and I had a disagreement on matters, and like the wanker he is, paid a number of my own men to restrain me before finishing me of. He probably alerted you so that if the shot didn't finish me, you would. So, regardless of what you may think, I won't be much help. If the bastard is smart, he'll wipe all evidence of me from the Blue Suns records, deny any resources my name will get, and pay off any man that knew me with the organization into forgetting me like a sour Monday afternoon. If he really is smart, he'll start moving operations to places I don't know of."

Fredrick looked down with bitter disappointment. "What was the cause of the argument?" he asked.

"Hiring Batarian slavers, add them to the ranks. I'm not exactly big on slavery, and I'm fine with gunrunning, extortion, and security jobs enough, without toying with the big wigs," Massani said as he picked at his head bandage.

Fredrick made an angry growl at the back of his throat. "He decided to throw Pigheads into his ranks? The bastard has it coming. Well, seeing as I really have no reason to throw you into lock up, what should I do with you?"

Massani sighed sadly, starring blankly at the floor. "Just drop me off wherever you're heading with some creds, and I'll figure things out. Besides, I still owe you a beer, if I remember correctly."

"That's alright, Massani. No need to thank me just yet," Fredrick said as he turned to a medical officer. "Get Mr. Massani a spare change of cloths, and a mobile locker. He'll need it when we get to the Citadel."

"Yes sir, I'll be back in five minutes," the other doctor nodded before striding out of the med bay.

"Good, be sure it's according to his bodily proportions," Fredrick added.

"Wait wait wait wait, how is you speak German, he speaks Chinese, and you two can still understand each other perfectly?" Zaeed inquired curiously.

With the advent of the central neural hub that connected all the minds of the Terrans, each individual could understand languages they hadn't learned, and additionally had no troubles speaking and understanding non-Human languages. "Our neural network allows us to share knowledge and memories, such as languages. Allows us to surpass the need for translators. Anyways, we're on our way to the Citadel. No doubt you can make your way around from there. Bridge still needs me." Fredrick stood up, pushed the swivel chair back, and approached the med bay door when Zaeed called him to stop.

"Oi, Wolf! Thanks, you're not so bad after all," he complemented.

Fredrick grinned in return. "Likewise, Massani."

* * *

 **Nov 17, 2165**

 **10 hrs/23 min/30 sec Local Time**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **bridge, on patrol in the Exodus Cluster**

"Still nothing on the long range scanners, sir," the officer groaned.

"Well, there are still pirates and Pigheads still roaming this sector picking off Alliance ships that are heading out to the colonies, so keep your eyes on that monitor and finger on the intercom should someone show up," Fredrick insisted as he took another sip of his coffee. It was most certainly a relief to have someone else fend the archeological sites and trades for once, simply sitting around waiting for life to occur was too boring.

"Maybe they wouldn't have this problem if they didn't spread themselves so thin," the officer continued to complain.

Fredrick rolled his eyes at the comment. "I already told that to the Systems Alliance Parliament, and that got me another shit-talking I didn't need. If you feel you can present a better case, I can print my speech out for you to refine." He had no issues understanding why everyone had issues with Normal Humans. Not so much their "swift takeover" of the Galaxy, but how poorly they managed their resources on a vaster scale.

"Sir! I'm picking up a distress signal, it's an Alliance ship," another officer called over to Fredrick. Rising from his seat on the bridge, he walked over to the other station and looked at the screen, showing the frequency.

"How long ago was this sent, soldier?" he asked.

"A couple of hours ago, sir. It's from the Kite's Nest. Let me bring it up," the transmission officer informed as he tapped several other keys on the UI. A distorted, Human female voice came through, showing clear panic.

 _"Mayday! Mayday! This is Kahlee Sanders on the SSV_ Iwo Jima _. We are under attack from Blue Suns forces, our ship is crippled in foreign territory, we've taken multiple casualties, and are requesting for assistance from anyone who can hear this transmission! Please, save us!"_ the voice called before the voice cut out.

"Soldier, find the system from where that transmission came from, and make it fast. We're diving into Pighead territory, and I don't think they'd like us to play in their backyard for very long." Fredrick turned to exit the bridge. _"Just another day,"_ he thought.

* * *

 **20 hrs/11 min/07 sec Local Time**

 **Camala, Indris System, Kite's Nest**

"What the hell is the Alliance doing this deep into Hegemony Territory anyways, Major Müller?" a marine asked him.

"It doesn't matter, they were being attacked by mercs, so we can blame it on that if the Hegemony finds us. If they don't believe us… well, it doesn't matter anyways. They hate us, and me especially regardless." While Batarians didn't live nearly as long as Asari, Krogan, or Terrans, he still left enough scars to warrant vengeance on his own head generations after the Invasion of Khar'Shan back in 2044.

"Understood, sir. What are the rules of engagement?" the marine continued to inquire.

"Keep things quite, remember that Pigheads hate me for a reason. The _Persistence_ will be hanging back until we have rescued all survivors and potential captives. Pilot, do you have eyes on the _Iwo Jima_? What's her status?" Fredrick said, as he walked towards the cockpit of the dropship.

"Destroyed, sir. I'll give you another flyby, but I doubt anyone could've survived a mess like that." The pilot banked the dropship hard to the left to give a good overview of a flaming, smoldering Alliance ship, charred by HE anti-frigate rounds.

A beeping started coming from the gunship telecom, signifying an incoming message. _Hello? Who is this?_ a dual toned voice said.

Fredrick reached for the receiver to respond. "Who is this?"

 _Fredrick? It's me, Saren. What are you doing here?_ Saren asked, with some surprise. _I'm in an element zero refinery forty kilometers south of your location, picking up on a lead._

"I'm here in response to a distress call from an Alliance ship under attack from Blue Suns. Any idea why they were here?" he asked.

 _They were here to pick up some VIP, and here I am stuck helping Sergeant Anderson retrieve her. However, I'm more interested in some files some researchers had. I'm closing in, and I'll blow the plant once I've secured the documents. Anderson is going for someone named Sanders, you know her by any chance?_ Saren asked.

"No, why? What's going on?" Fredrick asked.

 _A wealthy Batarian had an Alliance researcher work on some rather interesting artifacts. Of course, both are now infected and they were showing some interest in Sanders for some reason. Now, I'll be honest with you, I lured the Batarian businessman Had'dah here by leaking Sanders' location. I know you'll probably tear me a new one for that, but I needed to close the distance and get those documents from Had'dah. If they are documents on the Harvesters, this could be the break we've been looking for,_ Saren stated. _For now, get Sanders and Anderson out of here, if they really are as important as matters suggest them to be._

Fredrick sighed and continued, "Fine, I'll help clean up for you for old-times' sake. But don't expect me to do so again, Saren. I won't be helping to clean up relations with the Systems Alliance again, either."

 _Yeah, yeah, just hurry. I don't have much time to work with here, because I'll be setting the facility to detonate,_ Saren finished.

Fifteen minutes later, the dropship touched down near the refinery and exited the ship and attempted to contact Anderson in the facility via common Alliance frequencies. "Sergeant Anderson, can you hear me?"

Anderson's familiar voice returned, _major, you're a bit late. I've secured a friend of mine, and I'm bringing her out of the facility. Where are you?_

"Just touched down outside. You might want to hurry, Saren will be detonating the facility," Fredrick answered as he watched his men establish a perimeter.

 _What! Why?_ Anderson called with shock.

"Why not?" Fredrick responded. "It's a Pighead facility, and I see no reason why to do otherwise."

 _There are innocents in here, major! You have to stop that madman before he blows several hundred Batarian workers to dust!_ Anderson argued.

"You're really stretching the definition of 'innocent,' sergeant. Besides, the remains of a downed Alliance ship in Pighead territory are already bad enough, and your presence could easily be interpreted as an act of retaliation. This has to happen, Anderson," Fredrick countered.

Anderson sighed with contempt. _I hope you are willing to answer should this outcome state otherwise. I'll be exiting the facility on the Northwest side to meet you._

"Copy that." Fredrick ended the call and took a small team of four with him to protect the Northeast entrance from security as Anderson exited. The few guards that stood by were picked off and dragged to the shadows, away from the security cameras. After cutting power to the cameras, Fredrick opened the door and let Sergeant Anderson and Kahlee Sanders out. The group of seven swiftly returned to the dropship and took off just as the facility behind them was consumed in an enormous fireball.

Returning to the cockpit, Fredrick opened coms with the _Persistence_ ,ordering, " _Persistence_ , this is Major Müller. Survivors have been retrieved and we are ready for pick-up."

* * *

 **Nov 18, 2165**

 **06 hrs/10 min/43 sec**

 **Systems Alliance district, Citadel Station**

"What I'm asking for is a game for my men to play that has an online community that is less… hostile." Fredrick was sick of the multiplayer games his men had purchased for the req room, and wanted something of a more gentle tone. He was looking through the catalogue of games to purchase, and he wasn't finding anything that remotely matched his criteria.

The shop owner shook his head and answered, "I dunno where you've been living, grandpa, but those sorts of games are few and far apart."

"Or, at least something that has plenty of replayability and some multiplayer components where the vast majority of the playerbase isn't composed of poorly parented children." Fredrick had taken note that the more toxic game communities had a tendency to retain a much younger demographic, or a demographic of adults who'd failed to exit their teen years.

"Well, then I'd recommend Civ: Galaxy. Just got onto the shelves, worth forty creds," the shopkeeper gestured to a game on display in the counter.

Fredrick walked out of the store with the game slipped into his backpack and made his way to the port when he encountered Anderson sitting on a bench. Anderson sure was becoming increasingly cranky in the hours after he returned to the Citadel. When he'd returned, Saren had came back with a report of his own, stating that the mission had failed because of a mistake on Anderson's accord. Since Saren had been sent along to evaluate Anderson as a Specter candidate, this had been costly to the Alliance's political movement towards a Human Specter, and much more.

Fredrick sat down next to Anderson, and asked, "Hello, Sergeant. How are you holding up?"

The sergeant simply shook his head somberly and continued to stare at the ground. "I don't know, I don't know how I could've horribly messed up this opportunity."

"Look, this wasn't your fault, the outcome wasn't entirely under your jurisdiction. There was no way you could've prevented the destruction of that refinery," Fredrick said, trying to comfort Anderson in his moment of defeat.

Anderson's attitude suddenly shifted, and his somber was swiftly replaced with anger. "You're right. That bastard Saren set me up, I knew he was an asshole the moment I met him!"

Agitating Anderson was not what he was hoping to achieve. "Woah! I understand that Saren may have bad attitude, but he's not that bad of an individual. He has some grudges, that's all."

Anderson was clearly not convinced by Fredrick's defense. "You obviously haven't seen him on the field, major. He's well trained, and uses his skills with ruthless efficiency, without wasting an ounce of energy. He has no problems going through civilians to get to his goal, and doesn't mind shooting those who have surrendered."

"Well, as a Specter, he's well trained and is obliged to do whatever it takes to finish the job. He isn't exactly expected to take responsibility of the damage he causes, and he most likely kills those who are responsible to some extent," Fredrick continued to try to defend, even feeling his own defense wear thin.

"Bullshit, and you know it. Those were civilians in that refinery. The Batarians may be assholes, but that doesn't detract from their status as people too, Müller. So why are you trying to defend Saren?" Anderson spat.

Fredrick genuinely cared for Saren. He felt the Turian was formed from his own flesh and blood from his training, but he couldn't pull that excuse due to it being considered "classified" Specter information. Had he really raised Saren to be the same, crooked, damaged, heartless bastard he was? At least he was willing to admit himself was a complete devil. "Alright, maybe I haven't known him for long enough. It's just… I heard better things about him. Anyways, I've got certain matters to attend. I'll see you again, sergeant."

Fredrick stood up and walked away from Anderson and back up to the Presidium. Before he left to return to the _Persistence_ , he wanted to talk one more time with Saren. Maybe he could explain why he didn't want Anderson in the Specters. He thought the two had parted on generally good terms at the end of the First Contact War. After exiting the elevator, he gradually made his way to the Specter training center, hoping to catch Saren there when Saren suddenly approached him from the side half way there.

"Fredrick, good to know that you haven't left yet. I managed to get the files I mentioned. Or at least most of them," Saren greeted.

"What do you mean, 'most of them'? What happened? Did Dah'Har destroy some of the files?" Fredrick asked.

"I'm not sure. Physically, the datapads were untouched, but the files I managed to pick off his personal computer seemed to be altered. Files were missing, some lines of text were left unreadable, images deleted, and the UI was left unrecognizable. While most of the pieces are still here, it will take me time to rebuild their work. However, from what I can tell, it's research on a dreadnought predating the Protheans, the details are still sketchy and I can't even tell where they found it, but I believe this might give us the chance we need," Saren explained as he pulled out a datapad and showed Fredrick the information.

Fredrick handed back the datapad with a smile. "Good, remember to keep in contact unless it is absolutely necessary to keep to the shadows. I pray the council is infected, but the universe has shown me time and time again that it isn't prone to granting me any good fortune. Anyways, about the mission to Camala, I heard you put Sergeant Anderson in a rather unfair light," he returned, as his smile faded.

"Yes I did, but I believe it's for the best, and I know you will too. The Normal Humans are rapidly expanding into the Attican Traverse at an alarming speed, and to the point where they themselves are barely able to protect it all. Hopefully you understand that there is an issue to this matter," Saren explained.

Fredrick didn't know what to believe. After the diatribe he'd heard from Anderson, his standing with Saren faced two different directions. "So, how does using Anderson as a scapegoat fit into all of this?"

"They need to recognize that they are at great risk when all their assets are light-years apart. Up until about, what? Fifty years ago? They were still within their own system, whereas you and the Terran Republic had one hundred and thirty cycles to become accustomed to the new distance by the time they arrived. If they continue to strain themselves like this, the Harvesters will incinerate them without mercy and with great speed that will leave everyone else speechless. Simply put, they aren't ready for their seat in the Galactic community just yet. Besides, if it weren't for their foolish desire for more, you wouldn't have to be guarding their assets for them, would you?" Saren argued.

Fredrick sighed, recognizing some of the same rhetoric patters he would've used. Regardless of what Saren may have become, he would still be proud of him and everything he'd taught. "Yes, I do understand. Stay safe Saren, the Harvesters are watching our every step."


	9. Chapter 9: Mindoir

(A/N): Jesus, the finals were a pain in the ass; sorry this chapter took a while. I'm coming incredibly close to connecting the arcs between my story and ME1. I still have a few more chapters to go, but I want to establish where Fredrick would've been in your stories ("your" meaning the Shepards you played and the choices you made for the respective backgrounds of Earthborn/Colonist/Spacer and Sole Survivor/War Hero/Ruthless). For example, the child Timmy I showed in the chapter "Vases and Faces" was to be a filler spot for a spacer Shepard had I chosen the Spacer background. And then, there's this next chapter. Finally, should I consider revising Fredrick's character? Looking back on the series, I painfully noticed the parallels I could easily draw between Fred and a character from another franchise. Then again, he's a mix of various characters that I'm afraid of naming lest I be called unoriginal. Anyways, Mass Effect is property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, I only own robo-Kratos.

Chapter 9: Mindoir

 _The Pigheads weren't exactly happy with the Council's decision to allow the Alliance Systems to expand out into the Attican Traverse. For the few years during this massive land-grab, pirates and slavers would pick on the young and vulnerable populaces of these colonies, capturing those who could work and killing those who couldn't or put up a great resistance. Like many other times I had to help out, Mindoir was a farming colony that just so happened to be unlucky enough to be chosen. God, if we'd only we had arrived sooner._

* * *

 **June 07, 2170**

 **18 hrs/30 min/22 sec**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **hanger, in orbit over Mindoir**

Fredrick and Lauren slid on their helmets and dashed into the hanger area. The _Persistence_ and the Alliance _Einstein_ had responded to the few distress signals sent out from Mindoir before the slavers' jamming devices went online. They'd barely any time to brief their respective units before being called into action, as the two and as many other men made their dash to the many gunships and stations as both ships engaged the Batarian made ships hanging in orbit. While a couple had already made the jump through the relay, it was still his job to make sure that no other slavers got off the surface.

As he felt his weight shift and the gunship take off, he began to speak up to catch the attention of the still bantering soldiers. "Alright gentlemen, listen up! While Captain Hong is helping to cripple the Pigheads' remaining escape plan, it's our job to stomp any stragglers down below. While we retake the South end of the colony, Lieutenant Anderson and his unit will be advancing from the Northwest, and Major Schmitt's division will be advancing from the East. From the initial messages sent, I want everyone to expect heavy resistance and gun placements. However, remember to check your targets, we've still got civies down there, and they are our top priority. Once the remaining airspace is clear, the _Einstein_ and _Persistence_ will come to assist with air support. Any questions?"

The gunship was filled with complete silence and shaking of heads.

"Good. Now let's show these bastards what we're made of!" Fredrick exclaimed, shaking a fist.

"Oorah!" the ship full of marines yelled. The time dragged on for another ten minutes as the gunships entered the atmosphere and began to make its final approach.

 _"Major, we thirty seconds from the LZ. Red lights on,"_ the pilot announced over the intercom. An ominous red glow fills the gunship cabin, followed by the sound of weapon checks. The ship shook violently with the powerful explosions of anti-air guns. Fredrick's eyes remained fixed to the gunship doors, taking deep breaths to ease his worries. He knew it was just another fight against Batarian pirates, but it simply brought back too many early memories. _"The more things change, the more they stay the same,"_ he thought to himself.

The shaking came to a stop, and the light turned green. "We're groundside, move!" The doors slid open to reveal what was once a tranquil countryside now with the dark, looming clouds and fiery glow casting the land in shadow. The three squads total made a quick dash from the crop fields to the farmhouses, making their way to the colony. Around the colony perimeter were several Guardian-Class towers, now reduced to smoke and contorted metal. As dropships landed in the distance, additional AA rounds peppered the air to ward them off.

After passing a few burned barns, corpses from both sides of the conflict, and other abandoned establishments, a heavy gunner began to lay fire on Fredrick and his men from a barn. "Get a nail on that placement, and clear him out," he ordered, gesturing to a heavy trooper nearby. The soldier pulled out a railgun, and shot a streaming bolt into the base of the building, before the window where the gunner was held became engulfed in flame. The group made their way past the destroyed placement as screams echoed out.

As Fredrick's team entered a courtyard, the scattered pirates in the area brought their attention to the Terran soldiers and opened fire. Fredrick returned fire, eyes dashing back and forth, followed shortly by his rifle's barrel, picking off or chipping away at Batarians poking their heads from windows or chest-high barriers.

Clearing sector after sector, hope among the men slowly dwindled as they looked upon the dead, and few scenes of remaining colonists being captured to be sold into slavery if they made it out of orbit. Fredrick, and probably Lauren too, was throwing an absolute fit with the Batarians. The burning colony around him only fueled his rage, tossing dry wood into a bonfire, as did each subsequent kill. Gouging their eyes out, crushing their heads under his boot, tearing limb from limb, or tossing into various hazards along the way, he never held any doubts for gutting every Batarian who crossed his path.

"Anderson, Lauren, what's your status?" Fredrick asked over the coms, wiping Batarian blood off his visor.

 _We're making progress. We've cut power to their anti-air, and are moving swiftly through their defenses with minimal casualties. Unfortunately, there isn't a single survivor in sight,_ Lauren answered, with bursts of her particle machine pistol in the background.

Anderson answered shortly after. _Slowly. The Batarian pirates are putting up quite a fight, and we're taking casualties. We're currently pinned down by mortar and MG fire. Is there any way either of you can provide assistance?_

Fredrick was dismayed by Lieutenant Anderson's lack of progress. "Sorry lieutenant, my unit is still far on the South side of the colony. Lauren, is there any way you could send in assistance?"

 _Perhaps. There's enemy armor on the field, but nothing we haven't encountered before. I'll try to send you a few squads, lieutenant. Just hold on,_ Lauren grunted.

 _Please hurry, major. We've got eyes on civies across from our current position and the pirates are quickly closing in. Lieutenant Zabaleta is keeping them protected, and he's pinned down. Also, the pirates are still moving slaves out, and we can't stop them from our position._ Anderson was sounding increasingly desperate.

"Understood, Anderson. I'll try to shift my focus a bit." He turned to his own squad and barked, "Vasquez, take two squads down to the Southeast, try and cut off any leftovers over there, maybe meet up with Lauren's unit. Everyone else will follow me Southwest and back up Anderson's unit. Move out."

Fredrick continued to push through the remaining Batarian pirates, when he got the word from Max above. _Fredrick, we've successfully crippled what's left of the pirates' transportation, and are beginning to make our decent to the surface. The_ Einstein _is delaying to do some minor repairs._

Fredrick reduced three Batarians' heads to red mist as they appeared. "Good, get word to the _Einstein_ to hightail it down here. Anderson is taking a pounding right now, and he won't last much longer while he's under the pressure he's in." He continued to cautiously dash down the street, eyeing the roadsides for signs of traps or snipers. He came around a corner when he saw two, black-haired, Caucasian teenagers trying to fend of several Batarian pirates. The girl was a biotic, and clearly untrained, as she was rapidly tiring, while the boy was holding out with a hunting rifle. He turned his aim his rifle and gunned down the offending pirates, before quickly rushing up to the pair. From biological scans, he could tell the two were fraternal twins, and approached the girl sibling, as she was exhausted by heavy use of biotics.

"Catch your breath, have a drink." He handed her a canteen, a ration bar, and a left a trace of nanites on her forehead to work some repairs on her nervous system as the nanites subsided into her epidermis. He subsequently approached her sibling and began to patch some of his wounds, allowing the nanites to run over his skin like water. "How long have you two been out here?"

"A few hours, thank god you guys arrived. They got mom and dad, any idea when the Alliance will get here?" The young man was clearly taken aback by the slick, red coat of Batarian blood coating Fred's armor.

"They're pinned down just North of here. We can't exactly afford to take care of injured yet, so get to cover, or follow close behind us. We'll see to it that you two get what you need," Fredrick assured the two. "Just remember to stay out of fire. We didn't get the distress call until the attack was well into full swing, and we haven't been successful in saving anyone else."

Fredrick's squad continued their advance till they encountered a heavy firefight in an intersection. To their immediate left right was a heavily besieged building with Batarians of various ranks and type trying to break into a barricaded building, while Anderson's squad was trying to fend off the attackers. Unfortunately, the presence of two tanks made the counterattack almost impossible to pull off. "Anderson, we're here. How bad are things up there?" he asked as he gestured to the heavy trooper to lay fire on one of the tanks.

 _You're a sight for sore eyes, major. We're down seven men, and Zabaleta's squad is on its last legs if you don't hurry. What's your approach?_ Anderson heaved with relief.

"We're taking the tanks down. The armor is a threat so long as it's still moving." The heavy trooper detonated the railgun spikes, completely dismantling a tank, prompting the other to roll up and take aim.

 _That tank has you in its sights, major. Get the hell out of the way!_

Fredrick and the others dove off to the side as both fire from the tank and pirates pelted their barriers. He narrowly dodged a tank shell, and watched it whiz past him and flatten a building behind him. "Lauren, have you made any progress?" he asked over the coms.

 _We're cutting off remaining enemy transportation, and were beginning to approach your location. We've also met up with the squads from your unit. What's resistance like over there?_ Lauren answered.

He noticed in his peripheral vision the twins from earlier, hiding behind the overhang of several shops down the street behind them. "Plenty of grunts and a single tank. The infantry isn't too much of a problem, but that tank has us pinned down, and we don't have much space to work with." He noticed the tank gun readjust its aim at the squad across the street from him, prompting him to dash over to one of the soldiers who was poking too much from cover and tackled her just as a tank shell pierced the air she stood in. Unfortunately, he was too late to stop the explosive projectile from reducing the store the twins were hiding in to dust and fire.

"Sonuva- I'll have to call you back, Lauren." Those bastards just murdered more kids, now it's time to die. He pulled out his particle blade, coated himself in nanites, threw a biotic shockwave, and charged at the nearest Batarian heavy trooper. Before the soldier could pick himself up, Fredrick grabbed his head, lifted him up, and slit his throat before prying his head away from his body. He picked up the dropped weapon to hack away what was left of the nearby Batarians. He was suddenly stopped by a tank shell, which only bounced off of his nanite shield and into another building along the street. After temporarily stumbling, he continued his attack and ripped a crew hatch of the vehicle and lept inside. Those inside barely had time to draw any close quarter weapons before meeting a painful end at the Wolf's hands.

As he crawled out, he met Anderson's unit as they retrieved what was left Zabaleta's team and the civilians under their protection. Lauren's unit had finally come through to ward of the remaining pirates, and treating injured. The _Persistence_ , _Einstein_ , and a few other Alliance ships had landed nearby, waiting to extract from the once tranquil farming colony, were taking account of the dead, or were beginning to repair the ruins. The few who were trapped with Zabaleta's squad were all the colonists they managed to save that day. The vast majority had been killed for resisting or was hauled away like cattle. The memory of the tank shell rippling through the air and reducing those twins to vapor still flashed in his mind.

He stood over a line of body bags, lined up the streets for the Alliance troops to take identify, take account, and inform any relatives of their death. Lieutenant Anderson walked up to him and stood to his left. "So, this is your life, Müller? Unceasing day in and day out of shooting, running, and hoping that God doesn't call your number? I'm surprised you haven't quit."

"I'm one hundred and forty-five cycles old, I've seen plenty through those years and I'm very use to the idea of life being burned away before my eyes, and I'm very used to the concept of death and destruction by now. I wish I could get off this ride, but my job just isn't done yet," he answered as he took of his helmet. "But every now and then, the scenery does get a bit repetitive. You have any plans beyond playing soldier?"

Anderson shrugged and said, "I hope that I can settle down one day, look back and wonder how I got past these days of my life. Or maybe I'll join these bodies after some grueling fight. A long sleep, with a small nametag tied to my big toe. What about you?"

"I was bred for this, Anderson. Day one, I was meant as both a doctor and soldier, to artificially boost the number of workers on Khonsu. A few years of other alterations and implants, and here I stood as one of the first synth-organic Human hybrids in existence. I don't know if I ever will stop and start life as just a doctor, given what lies ahead of us," he answered, somberly shaking his head.

"Like what?" the lieutenant asked.

"Well, maybe now's not the time to fully explain just what lies on my shoulders lieutenant. Don't get me wrong, you're a good man and I don't want to hide anything from you, but the truth is you still have problems of your own before you can afford to see the bigger picture. The Alliance is stretched thin as is, and they still need time before they can panic." Fredrick also wanted solid evidence to bring up with the council before he could make any public exclamations about the impending doom of the Harvesters.

"Very well, I suppose that's fair. Damn shame we couldn't get here sooner, the number of innocents who just lost everything they had is just too damn high. As much as we may have saved some of this colony, I'm not exactly sure we can call this a victory."

Fredrick put on his helmet and walked away to Lauren, as she talked with Zabaleta's team. "Fredrick, what the hell happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to his now completely red armor.

"I'll wash it off later. Besides, you have just as much as I do. Anyways, how's your side of the mission been?" he returned, gesturing to her equally Batarian blood-coated armor.

Lauren growled, "I'd hate to rub salt in your wounds, but retaking the East side of the colony was more or less a complete success. We cleared out their AA and put prevented any more from escaping, while taking minimal injuries on our side, but I wished we'd found more than Human corpses in between each fire fight."

"We can only play hero so much, Lauren. We found a couple of twin siblings, but they were blown away by tank fire as we came in to rescue the Alliance troops. I did consider the option of keeping them hidden until the colony was secure, but I didn't believe they could hold out. They barely had any combat training, and one sibling had heavily used her biotics to the point of nosebleeds. If anything, that is no scenario to take the risk of leaving a couple of kids behind to either be killed or captured while our backs are turned," Fredrick explained. "Other than that, my part of the mission played out in much of the same fashion."

Lauren gave a pitiful sigh before responding. "What a shame, would've been a good outlook for the aftermath of this shit storm."

Fredrick groaned as he mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, what a rotten way to die. Want to talk more over a pint?"

* * *

 **Sept 30, 2170**

 **01 hrs/22 min/30 sec**

 **Specter Research Labs, Citadel Station**

"What I'm saying is I want _results_ Dr. Enise. I need you to keep working on those files, I don't care how long it takes you to work around the corrupted bits of data," Saren hummed angrily.

The Salarian simply trembled with fear, trying and failing to keep a straight posture. "Look, Specter Arterius, I've told you I'm working as fast as I can. Besides, it's the dead of night, and there's not much I can do right now. What is it you see is so vital in some ancient dreadnought?"

Saren's head hung backwards with frustration. He no longer trusted anyone as not infected. He would openly admit that after his mission to the Kite's Cradle back in 2165, he'd become increasingly paranoid, and that any leak to anyone affiliated with the Harvesters would inadvertently get him killed. No doubt they'd made some attempts on Fredrick's life and failed, but he still carried doubts that he would be the more exposed alternative if they wanted to keep word from the public. "What I'm interested doesn't matter, what's important is that you do what you're told and you'll get paid. Take the rest of the night off for now, but I'm still looking for answers, and you will get right back to decrypting tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Specter Arterius, I'll be back on the case as soon as I can." The Salarian turned and stumbled out of the room as Saren continued to stare at a screen, looking at the damaged files. He remembered Fredrick's mention of the "incident" back in 2069, and wondered if they were already too late, and that the Harvesters were preparing for the next cycle of cleaning the Galaxy once more.


	10. Chapter 10: You Again

(A/N): Another year gone by that no one will miss. Regardless of how we may think about 2016, we can't deny that it was most certainly interesting. So, the Holiday Break has been nice, but I need to get back into the swing of chapters now that finals have been dealt with. I'm getting really close to the beginning of the end of this overlong story, or I'm getting to the end of this story arch, and am approaching the start of the story arch that we all know and love. But hey, now would be the best time to get any complaints out while I have time to make mass-corrections before I go forward with some plot hole that fucks up the whole thing causes my story to somehow be worse than it already is.

Chapter 10: You Again

 _The Andromeda Initiative, strange to think how it was proposed this year. I know that by the time those within the Andromeda would ever return, that we'll all be long gone, either consumed by the enemy, or having returned to the dust and ashes we came forth from. Regardless, if I do fail, at least they didn't defeat all of us. It most certainly does bring some hope into a life of repetitive activity and mediocrity, as it most certainly gives something to look forward to.  
_

* * *

 **March 13, 2176**

 **12 hrs/09 min/22 sec**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **bridge, Nile Nebula, Ra System**

"Good to see you got my message. Sorry to pull you away from your lunch shifts so soon, Müller," Commander Burke greeted as Fredrick walked onto the bridge. "I just got off the horn with High Command, and I thought you should see this. The courts just made an agreement with various other race leaders and governments, putting forward something called the 'Andromeda Initiative,' and I'd thought you'd like to see it."

"I can understand sir. What are the details?" The commander pulled out a datapad and handed it off to Fredrick.

"Here's the basic rundown, ask me anything," the commander said as he turned to lean over the galaxy map.

Fredrick's eyes scanned the tablet, looking over the proposal, eyes widening with surprise. His breathing rate shifted as multiple emotions ran though his head like a current in the ocean. "I see, what's your input about the proposition? And what do they need from us?"

Burke sighed before answering, "I honestly don't know how to feel about the idea of shipping some number of people deep into unknown territory, especially when we have something much bigger on our plate that no one even knows about. Regardless, it's a group effort, meaning that the Citadel-esque hub and the five ark ships will require everyone to pitch in resources and scientists to build and ship over there. Once they arrive at Andromeda after some six-hundred-odd years, they'll establish colonies and try to develop a dependable and fast means of travel between our galaxy and theirs."

As he handed back the datapad, Fredrick asked, "Fair enough, but why did you call me up here? I have as much say in this decision as you do."

Burke straightened up and answered, "Command knows you've been out here for a good long time now, and they wanted your input on who'd be the best candidate to send along to keep our people safe."

Fredrick turned his gaze off to the side with thought. He wanted to go along for the promise of adventure, but he'd a personal vendetta to settle, and wasn't willing to abandon generations of innocents to such merciless monstrosities. He wanted someone who was capable of protecting civilians to go, someone who was dependable, smart, and trained for combat in diverse environments. The name came to his mind, and he spoke it without second thought. "Captain Max Hong is up to the job. I have no doubt about his capabilities as a marine, and he'd be a perfect escort."

The commander pulled out his omnitool and began tapping a message. "Fair enough, I'll send command and the Captain of your input. I hope Captain Hong is the right choice, you do realize if he isn't the soldier we need for this expedition, the operation could fail."

"Trust me, commander. I have no doubt he'll stand the pressures of playing conquistador and survive to tell the tales."

* * *

 **May 28, 2176**

 **14 hrs/30 min/40 sec**

 **Petra Nebula, Vetus System, Elysium, Alliance HQ**

"A single Alliance soldier managed to hold the front, a soldier after my own heart," Fredrick complemented. He held his helmet under his right arm and an apple in his left hand. "You're lucky to have such a soldier among your ranks, captain. When do I meet her?" he asked as he stuffed a bite of apple in his mouth. Fredrick talked to an Alliance Officer as the two walked through what was left of the colony. Unlike the dozens of other times an Alliance colony had been attacked, he was here for the cleanup process rather than the defense, and was subsequently much more relaxed about the situation.

The captain shook his head with some bewilderment before speaking up. "She was here on shore leave with her unit when the first wave of pirates first touched down. While the vast majority of the remaining Alliance forces evacuated as many civilians as they could, she, a Krogan bounty hunter, and a few other recruits from the colony took potshots at the pirate invaders. With the resources they salvaged from the dead, they held on, through and through until we could break through and drive what was left of the attackers away." The two walked down some civilian sector still littered with debris, bodies from both sides of the conflict, locals looking for bits of their life they lost, and Alliance troops beginning the repair process. "By the time we found them, they were exhausted, and only lightly injured from the conflict."

The two approached a marketplace now reverted into a medical center for those harmed during the conflict. The two made their way to a single bench where a small Alliance soldier was sitting, completely eclipsed by an armored, crimson Krogan mercenary he recognized all too well. He began to approach the Krogan saying, "Wrex! It's been too long, what are you doing here, my friend?"

Wrex responded with a hearty laugh and a wide grin before getting up and walking over to shake hands. "Aha! Good to see you again, I was here when shit hit the fan. Here to clean up again?"

"As per usual. Good to see Elysium was in good hands, with you and this… I don't believe I've met her yet, who is this?" He asked as he glanced past Wrex to see his redhead companion.

"Ah, Lieutenant Shepard of the Alliance Marine Corps, she's a tough soldier for her size." Fredrick's eyes perked up as he investigated the soldier. She was short, had a well-built frame, a short bob haircut, a stern look as she returned a glance back at him. It didn't take him long to recognize the genetics, the red hair, and piercing green eyes to recognize Linda Shepard from the slums of Earth.

 _"Her again. How'd she make it from that orphaned child to a war hero? How is it I've coincidentally seen her again? Is she somehow significant? Does she even recognize me? Maybe it'd be best to avoid her."_ Various thoughts and questions danced through his head, cycling repeatedly. "Is she a friend of yours, Wrex?"

"Yeah, we've known each other for a few years. I met her when she first enlisted, and we've even met a few times for a few missions. You interested in her, or are you worried that we're not friends anymore?" Wrex chuckled.

"No, I thought she looked familiar for a moment," he lied turning his attention back to Wrex. "So, how much about me have you told her?" he prompted. He was actually beginning to feel a bit concerned about this girl.

Wrex shrugged his shoulders and answered, "She never asked. Don't worry, I won't tell her anything bad, your secrets are safe with me, ehehe."

"Good to know, not that I need any gossip circling around my identity anyways," Fredrick smiled and tossed the barren apple core into a disposal bin just as the Alliance captain interrupted the two's conversation.

"Excuse me major, Admiral Hacket is calling from Arcturus Station, and he'd like to have a word with you concerning the potential of future attacks. He says he wants your input for preparing for such events and possible prevention," the captain said, gesturing back to the Alliance command tower down the street.

"Of course, I'll be right there. Take care Wrex, catch me later and I'll get you a rynchol," he responded before waving Wrex goodbye.

"Good luck out there, Fredrick. Everyone is hounding your metallic ass," Wrex returned as he turned back to Linda.

As Fredrick walked to the command tower, thoughts about Linda's brief appearance in his life cycled through his head again. _"Maybe I could get access to her file and see how she got here. Something's off, I figured she'd just be another face flashed before my eyes only to never be seen again. How old is she by now, twenty-two cycles? She can't possibly remember me after all this time."_ He was more mystified by the coincidence if anything.

He entered the damaged command tower and made his way to the top level. As he exited the elevator, he looked around the room of bustling Alliance personnel. Grabbing the attention of a soldier walking by, he asked for directions, only to be directed to a conference room with Hackett, and other Alliance leaders all projected via holograms. _Major Müller, it's a pleasure to meet you,_ Hackett greeted. _We're grateful for the devotion you've provided towards a safe expansion, and are forever indebted to you. I hope we don't give the impression we're overstaying our welcome, we've got additional matters we'd like to discuss._

As Fredrick stood to attention, he saluted and said, "no worries, Admiral. What did you have in mind?"

Hackett shook his head with dismay before starting, _matters are looking bad, major. Even if Lieutenant Shepard may have single-handedly saved us one of our most vital colonies in the Attican Traverse, the issue still remains. Captain Anderson had informed us about his experience with you on the field, and we believe you could provide us the help we need to secure our colonies. No doubt you are aware of the repeated attacks against lightly defended colonies by Batarian pirates and extremists. These attacks are fast, hard, and we're barely able to rush to the defense of these colonists before they take too many lives. What we need help with is training our soldiers to be better prepared for these sorts of scenarios in the future, and eventually stop the extremist threat._

Fredrick nodded. The only thing he hated equally to the Harvesters were the Batarians, their culture, and their Hegemony. No doubt he was still blindly beating a dead horse one hundred and thirty cycles too long, and he was aware of that. Fortunately, he had no justification to turn down the offer, and lightly smiled at the proposition. "Understood Admiral Hackett, what exactly do you need me to do?"

 _We need someone who's had better experience combating Batarian combatants to get our soldiers ready for what we will eventually face,_ Hackett continued. _Eventually, we will be making a push towards a system we believe to be the main hub for pirates and extremists within the Attican. We know the Terran Republic is very invested in keeping crime out of their sector, and we believe this could benefit both parties. We understand if you deny the offer, as you've contributed more than your fair share of effort towards helping us._

"No, no, no need to apologize, I can make this happen, admiral. When do I get started?" Fredrick asked.

 _This could take a while. We're still sweeping through unmarked territory, sweeping for pirate strongholds. We've pegged a few, but they still linger about, and are looking for a main base of operations. We'll inform your CO of the offer, and will request your assistance when we start to get things underway. Any other questions?_ the admiral added.

"Could I have access to Lieutenant Shepard's profile? I'd like to make a few assessments."

* * *

 **Marketplace Courtyard, reverted into a medical center, Elysium**

 _"Him again."_ While Wrex had left to get the two drinks, she thought back to the soldier in white and crimson. The face, the voice, and the armor were just distantly familiar. She remembered when he said everything would be alright, when he said her mother would be alright, and when she cried her eyes dry when she was met with the crippling realization her mother had died that morning in her own bed. She felt nothing but a bitter sensation every time she saw his armor in public, or on some news broadcast. _"You can't judge a book by its cover,"_ she reminded herself. She'd never met the man, and had only heard rumors of the otherwise undefined warrior.

From her life before, she'd known next to nothing about him. Very little news besides events from colonies made it back to Earth, and she was very uninformed about galactic politics when she finally did enlist when she reached seventeen. The Tenth Street Reds weren't very keen on peeking into foreign affairs, and would only do so when shipping out red sand. Furthermore, the Westerlund News did a very poor job covering the identity of the soldier, and only gave her enough information to know that pissing him off and staying within arm's reach was a very bad idea. Augs in general were nebulous at most, and rumors still cycled their kind long after reestablishing connection.

Wrex came back with a beer in one hand and a pint of rynchol in the other. "Here you go, just like you asked, Shepard."

Linda looked up and grabbed the beer from his grasp and smiled before saying, "thanks Wrex. By the way, who was the Aug in white you were talking to earlier."

"How the hell do you not know? Anyways, that was Fredrick Müller of the Terran Marine Corps. A good friend if I ever knew one, why?" Wrex explained as he wiped his mouth after taking a long chug from his drink.

"You'd think in the modern era that I'd have known. However, Earth was stuck in the Stone Age for most of my childhood, so I didn't know until much later. Know anything besides the basics?" Linda returned.

Between drinks, Wrex said, "he's a force of nature, and that's probably all you'll need to know. He hasn't really explained much about his youth, so you'll have to ask him yourself when you get the opportunity."

She sighed with dissatisfaction. "I recognize him from long ago. You think he recognized me?" she asked before taking a sip.

"Maybe. He told me he's got advance ocular implants that read biometrics and genetics when he was identifying a corpse for me. But, I don't know. Maybe he didn't see you then," Wrex said.

"Oh like hell he did," Linda grumbled. "I dragged my ass out of some dead building, I'm pretty sure that counts as spotting. Anyways, you said his name was Müller?"

As Wrex finished his drink and stood up to get another, he said, "yeah, what? You two interested in each other?"

"I figured the extranet would have better answers," she responded, looking off.

* * *

 **Aug 11, 2176**

 **19 hrs/22 min/41 sec**

 **Specter Research Labs, Citadel Station**

"Specter Arterius, I've got it," the Salarian said.

"I'd prefer if you referred to you successes by their actual names instead of by pronouns," Saren grumbled with exhaustion. By now, he'd been spending countless nights without a wink of sleep.

"Oh, sorry. What I'm saying is, I've managed to find a previous location of the dreadnought, and a means of tracking it should it have been moved," the equally tired Salarian mumbled.

"How so?" Saren asked.

"You see, the dreadnought had a very distinct energy frequency emitted from its mass effect core, unlike anything anyone else has. These waves linger for a very long time and don't fade away for several decades, if the decrypted files are any bit reliable," the Salarian described as he handed Saren the datdapad.

"How soon can you get a proper tracking device underway?" Saren asked as he scrolled over the details.

"I can get a working prototype done by next month. You do realize it will take me a while to design, build, and integrate the module with your ship, correct Specter Arterius?" the Salarian droned.

"Just get it done," Saren hissed, making a gesture to the Salarian to stop speaking.

"Ah, yes! I'll get it done," the Salarian stuttered with an addition of fear to his tone before dashing off.

Saren pulled out his omnitool and initiated a call. Shortly after, Fredrick's voice picked up, and started, _Hello? Saren? Talk to me, buddy._

"I think I've got something. I've got just enough vital information concerning the dreadnought reworked, a last known location, and a means of finding it," he reported.

He'd never heard such a satisfied tone from Fredrick's laugh before. _Excellent! Excellent! Are you heading out to find it?_

"I thought it would be best to do so on my own accord. I don't think the council or the public should hear about this just yet, and that we should work with this privately. Besides, the last site was somewhere deep in Terminus space." Saren was repeatedly flicking his mandibles with excitement.

 _Good, just remember to maintain radio silence between us when you get to work. We've gotten thus far, and we can't stop just yet. It's great to hear you've made great progress,_ Fredrick chimed with happiness.

"Of course. Anyways, I've got to go. I'll contact you later," Saren said as he ended the call. He proceeded to make another call to another contact. "Hello? Barla Von?"

 _Ah yes, *wheeze* what can I do for my *wheeze* favorite Specter?_ the trader's voice huffed.

"I need a team. I'd go to the council for this, but I don't think I can trust them with this matter, so this is outside of their knowledge," Saren continued.


	11. Chapter 11: Born to Heal

(A/N): Ah, Christmas: a happy time of, yet surprisingly stressful holiday (at least in most 1st World Countries). So, I did try to look up the Andromeda Initiative on the ME wiki to gain a better understanding of it, and it turns out the project was started in 2176, the same year of the Skyllian Blitz to save those some confusion. I seriously hope EA doesn't screw that game up, and that I'm not tempted into buying the deluxe version for the sake of the pet Varren. Besides, what is a Varren doing along as a pet instead of livestock? I get that they're trying to outdo the Space Hamster and fish, but last time I checked, scale-itch is a bitch to deal with, and now I've got several images stuck in my head.

Chapter 11: Born to Heal

 _Perhaps I was just never meant to teach at all. In retrospect, I already failed with Saren, so I should in no right make the same mistakes with Alliance troops, so what the hell am I doing? When this war is over, the Galaxy will be left with a Specter and several dozen Systems Alliance soldiers who act, think, and talk like me, but lack the same physical abilities and looks that I do. Perhaps I should've picked that up when I discovered that other personnel were teaching me medicine rather than Andrew himself._

* * *

 **Nov 7, 2176**

 **21 hrs/32 min/44 sec**

 **Khonsu, Fredrick's personal quarters**

"I keep telling you, Max. You'll do _fine_. I've seen you on the field and you are more than qualified for the task at hand," Fredrick explained over the call.

 _Look, Fredrick, I'm just another field medic. Yes, I've done plenty of S &R over the years, but I am in no way any match for your capabilities or skillset, _Max argued back. _Besides, why don't you consider yourself up for the job? You're older, more experienced, are a proven leader, smart, and pretty much have a double quad set._

Fredrick stifled a yawn before answering. "I'm not leaving this galaxy until I see every last one of those mechanical fuckers flop and die like the worms they are. This job requires a more gentle hand, a gentle hand I cannot provide."

 _What the hell do you mean, 'a gentle hand?'_ Max paused for a second as he sighed. _If I'm honest, I'm scared. I know the Harvesters are knocking at our door, and could come roaring down on us any day now, and I just need something to wrap my head around before I dive into a cryo pod, never to wake up again._

Fredrick leaned back in his chair, and sharply exhaled. He straightened up and said, "Because you're not me, Max. I'm confident if you asked anyone else, and I can even acknowledge myself, that I'm an absolutely heartless bastard. A broken old man who thinks he can change things for the better, and has some serious issues and habits he wants to ignore. You still have a clean slate, but you've set yourself a good path. All I'm saying is that my story is here, but yours is over there and is waiting to unfold."

Max sighed again and looked down, away from the monitor. _I- if that's how you see the situation, then thanks. But if we get over there, will you still be here to pick up the call for when we try to come back?_

"I'll most likely have returned to the ashes, but I'll be on the phone, waiting for the call. Anyways, I'm heading to bet, big day tomorrow," he saluted before ending the call, closing his monitor, and getting up to go to bed.

* * *

 **April 02, 2177**

 **13 hrs/13 min/49 sec**

 **Alliance HQ, Rio de Janeiro**

"What the hell do you mean, 'after a few hours'? Your job is to find causality as to those marines' deaths so your precious Alliance marines can avoid a similar fate in the future!" Fredrick had only just docked on Earth for less than an hour, and he'd already found a bone to pick with some unfortunate officer.

"Lo-look, major. I've done everything I can-" the poor officer managed to weasel out before Fredrick interrupted him.

"Don't give me that excuse, sergeant. I've done myself the liberty of reading up on the colony while you were sitting here, dick in hand, and found out from land surveys that all land within an eight-kilometer radius of the mining colony was too hilly or mountainous to allow Thresher Maws to fester. Unless they set off some really big explosives right under their colony or some similar event to create enough surface activity to attract the fuckers from that distance, I suggest you whip together a report more than 'an accident happened on Akuze,' before your CO sees your lackluster work!" Fredrick exclaimed as he tossed a datapad right back into the officer's lap.

"Gah-uh, yessir!" the officer nervously answered before returning to his monitor.

Captain Anderson walked up to him as he walked away from the offices and saluted. "Good to see you again major, is there something wrong?" Anderson asked with concern as the two began to walk down a hallway to the barracks.

"Simply maintaining discipline in the office, captain. I heard about the marine unit on Akuze, and I honestly believe there to be deeper implications to the incident," Fredrick said. He was honestly surprised that Anderson managed to keep a level attitude despite his earlier diatribe.

"Please, it's simply 'Anderson' among friends. I'm aware how the circumstances under which the colony disappeared and the men were killed is rather suspicious, but we're having a hard time finding clues that suggest anything else," Anderson said.

"Any luck dealing with Cerberus? You know the public wants the Alliance to answer for the damage they've done." Despite what he'd said, Fredrick couldn't take Cerberus as an organization seriously. Even though the faction claimed its actions were for the benefit of the Human race, the experiments and movements they committed to stated otherwise. In his own terms, he thought of the extremists as cartoon villains from the ancient televised programs, complete with handlebar mustaches and black tophats. Their cause wasn't helped by the fact the 'experiments' they did perform were more along the lines of Nazi pseudo-science than actual research towards anything useful. Unfortunately, the Alliance would be constantly stuck in the political sinkhole they were in as long as the organization lived, as incident after incident harmed the Systems Alliance's credibility severely.

"We're trying, but the group is just dug in too far deep. We don't know how they get their seemingly limitless resources and manpower, or how they recruit. Humanity has dealt with similar threats in the past, but we were all on the same rock in those days." Anderson had lead many busts and efforts in an attempt to chisel away at the organization, but all to no avail, and was growing increasingly upset about the lack of progress.

"Moving forward, what exactly do you need me to do during the lead up to the eventual eviction of the pirate threat from the Attican Verge?" Fredrick asked as he approached the barracks.

"The boys and girls have been informed of your arrival, and were told to clean up for inspection. How you train them or what you teach them is up to you. If you need anything specific, I'll see to it," Anderson answered.

Fredrick turned and instantly took advantage of the opportunity. "I'm aware the request is far-fetched, but I need R&D or someone to give me something that can simulate a Thresher Maw. If you don't want acid burned and eaten marines, I need something to work with, like some specialized hologram for the arena."

Anderson nodded and chuckled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said as the two entered the barracks to begin introductions.

The living quarters had two rows of bunks, and two walking areas dividing two of the aforementioned rows. Along each line, the various recruits were all lined up, eyes forward and with a straight posture. Fredrick slowly scanned the room before he took off his helmet and circled around the bunks. "I am Major Fredrick Müller, from here to the end of your training under my watch you will refer to me as "sir," and you will only speak when spoken to, do you mutts understand that?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the marines responded.

"Bullshit, sound off like your life is on the line!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Fredrick continued to hungrily circle around the bunks as he continued. "Should you survive under my watchful eyes, you'll stand head and shoulder above the rest of the nameless haze. But until that day, you're nothing but target practice for the enemy, nothing but Varren chow, nothing but god forsaken redshirts surviving on nothing but luck and prayers! You will follow my guidance, because I've been hardened by the battlefield, and we will not be friends. However, the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I'm stubborn like a motherless mule, but I'm fair. I will not accept speciesism under my regime. I don't look down upon Turians, Organic Humans, Asari, or Salarians. The galaxy is unforgiving, and will tear you a new one regardless of how well you can shittalk, do you mutts understand that?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Sound off like you've got a quad!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Fredrick ignored the glances Anderson gave him. Fredrick damn well knew that Anderson was willing to give him as much leeway he would need if these sorry excuses for soldiers were to survive. "I may have infinitely higher standards for a true warrior. I may always be able to infinitely jump higher, run faster, punch through walls, fling dozens around effortlessly with biotics, and see through walls, but that doesn't mean that my competence is nowhere within the confines of Human capability. You will learn to expend every last bit of ATP to finish the mission, you will learn to survive the harsh galaxy, and you will learn face everything this galaxy has to offer you, because I'm in no mood to let anyone flunk."

* * *

 **Oct 13, 2177**

 **15 hrs/30 min/00 sec**

 **Earth, Rio de Janeiro, Alliance Training**

As a former Captain of the Spetznaz, General Sokolov had done his best to train Fredrick, and the others the skills they were praised for. He stood from a balcony watching over sparring pairs practice in the gym below. For the last several months, he'd been teaching the same combat techniques he'd been taught as a child, and as promised wasn't afraid to raise the bar. He'd put these marines through much more physically strenuous practices, far beyond what was normally given to Alliance marines. Additionally, he'd use a simulated arena he'd been given as requested to frequently put them through Thresher Maw combat. He'd be damned if he only produced subpar soldiers.

 _"Major Müller, please come to the conference office. Major Müller, please come to the conference office,"_ a cool voice announced over the intercom. He turned away from the gymnasium and began to walk towards the exit. As he marched through the various offices, he finally entered a double-door room and sat down at a chair amongst several others. Most of the other chairs were filled with projections of other Alliance and Terran officers with an exception of the officer he sat next to. A projection of Admiral Hackett sat at the very back.

 _"Major, it's good to see you're here. We've just found the source of all our problems out in the Attican. A small moon called Torfan is serving as a staging area and trading port for various pirate factions near the edge of Batarian Space. No doubt this is going to be a tough fight, so we hope you're still up for the idea of taking part in the assault,"_ Hackett said as a projection of the moon came up. The various bases and locations across the rock were lit up with red against the dark blue.

Fredrick shrugged as he said, "If you need me to keep as many patched up as possible, that's fine by me."

 _"That is what you'll be doing along the way. As we've been discussing earlier with your superiors, you have plenty of experience dealing with pirates and Batarians under your belt, and we've decided that you should be leading the charge rather than holding back. You'll be taking up this endeavor with Major Kyle, the officer beside you."_ Fredrick took a moment to look at the young, shorthaired man sitting next to him. _"It's a small moon, but there are a lot of small pockets scattered all throughout, and they've dug themselves quite deep, meaning orbital strikes won't get anything accomplished. Major Kyle will be leading the charge on the Southern Hemisphere while you take the North. Is there anything you'll need before we begin the assault?"_

Fredrick asked, "Are you still amassing forces for this invasion, what numbers am I working with, how many am I against, and what will happen should matters turn tail up faster than anticipated?"

 _"We're preparing and will be providing both of you with two thousand each, and we can't exactly gage how many are on the moon when we attack. The frequency with which pirates go in and out is too inconsistent to keep track within any given time frame. We're sorry we can't give you any tangible answers on this matter, but none of us have any doubt you'll finish the mission. Should your units be decimated upon initial landing, we will have multiple flagships in orbit to keep providing you with reinforcements and support fire. Other regiments are trying to prepare for the campaign, and we're hoping your unit is as well. Meeting adjourned."_ The holograms dissipated one by one as official after official was shown getting up from their seat. As Fredrick left the room, Major Kyle followed shortly behind.

"You think we can pull this off?" Kyle asked.

"Not completely without casualties. I have no doubt within your capabilities yet, but I'm open to carrying on the assault on my own should you fall or become incapacitated," Fredrick said grimly.

"Well, I guess being realistic is the best way to go about this. I heard about the stories of your first contact with the Batarians. What was that like?" Kyle asked again.

"Look major, we'll be fine. When we finally get there, I'll go over with everyone step-by-step how this game will play out. If things don't go exactly as we hoped, we'll improvise," Fredrick said sharply turning around to face the man.

"Fair enough, but most of us don't have first hand experience swan diving into hell."

* * *

 **Jan 05, 2178**

 **04 hrs/22 min/40 sec Local Time**

 **Pylos Nebula, Dirada System**

"There it is. Look at the size of that thing!" Redann Reue exclaimed.

"That's a ship? Looks more like a bug," Wunar Virmu commented as he loaded a thermal clip into his claymore shotgun.

"Stop shitting yourselves, and let's get going. All we've been doing for the last several months has been picking on locals and wandering from system to system. Besides, what are we even doing this close to Geth territory? I've been hearing rumors that they've been readily treading outside of the Perseus Veil recently, chasing down trader ships even," Jium T'neris said as she adjusted the sights on her sniper rifle.

"That's the ship. Get ready to board, we'll be going on, sweeping, and seeing if we can get this thing up and running." Saren simply stared at the ghostly ship off in the distance. His life had been gradually building up to this moment, and he could barely contain his excitement. He now had access to the means that would defend his people from the haunting shadow of the Harvesters, and possibly more once the threat was no more. As their ship came closer and closer to the dock, he watched as the shadow created by the ship against the system's sun covered them in darkness. "Naela, take us in and keep us informed about anything coming into the system."

The Quarian nodded and responded with, "Understood. Everyone hang on, I'm adjusting the magnetic clamps for the dock." The side of the ship lined up with one of many tubes jutting out from the metallic body and locked on with a slight jolt.

"Everyone with me, keep your weapons ready in case there's trouble aboard. Naela, keep the door locked and the engines running," Saren ordered as he slipped on his helmet. He stepped out the airlock followed by a Krogan vanguard, an Asari sharpshooter, and a Salarian technician, each with their stocks nailed to their chest plates and eyes glued to their sights. Saren turned on his night-vision as he stepped into the vast, dark, empty space that was the dreadnought's docking bay.

"I don't think this is Prothean, boss. I've been on jobs to various archeological sites before, and I can tell you this is nothing I've ever seen before," Virmu said, sweeping wide, shining his flashlight on the dark room.

"Just keep moving. Redann, keep an eye out for a terminal to use, and get me diagnostics on the ship. This ship is too empty to have moved on its own." Saren was beginning to look behind him more frequently.

The group continued to move deeper and deeper into the bowls of the ship, looking for answers to what may have become of the crew. They entered door after door, going deeper and deeper into an evermore-elaborate labyrinth. "Where the hell are we? I thought the job was supposed to be simpler than this," Jium said, swinging around her sniper rifle with panic.

"I'm not liking this," Virmu said with a tinge of panic.

"Just keep your heads down, and keep moving. We've got to find a terminal," Saren said, trying to comfort the trio of mercenaries. He could understand the fear among them, wandering into an enormous ship with infinitely looping corridors, dark corners, and a strangely confusing aspect to its architecture. Whoever designed this ship clearly didn't put any thought into user-friendliness.

"Over there! This terminal is still active!" Redann exclaimed, as he dashed over to a screen. Pulling open his omnitool, he began to work with the UI to start the data-mining process.

"Excellent! Everyone hold position till-" Saren started before Naela called with panic in her voice.

"Bo – n yo – hear m- epeat, Sar – do – opy?" the Quarian's voice called.

"Naela? You're breaking up! What's going on?" Saren said as he batted his intercom. He was now beginning to really panic as his HUD started to flicker.

"Sy – tems ar – ling, I – raise any -" the line went dead, leaving only static.

Redann started screaming, clutching his head with increasing pain. "Get it out! Get it out! Someone help me!"

Saren pulled out his particle machine pistol and ordered to Virmu, "We're getting out! Everyone, move!" He made sharp gestures at the door, prompting the Krogan merc to run.

After only making three strides, Virmu made a painful grunt before freezing like a statue, and falling to the floor with a loud thud. The previously unstoppable Krogan now remained motionless on the floor, silent and stuck in a falling pose. Just as Saren continued the dash for the door, it closed tight, halting his escape.

"Stay back! Stay back!" Jium was lashing out at empty space with her biotics and her sidearm, attacking a seemingly invisible enemy around her. "Stay back you fucks! Don't get close!" She sharply whipped around and aimed her weapon at Saren, and froze with fear.

Saren tried to approach her slowly, saying, "Jium, it's all in your head! Don't listen to them!"

She began to shake her head and her grip began to shake, eyes widening with fear. "You won't take me alive!" she screamed, as she pulled the gun to the underside of her jaw, and pulled the trigger, sending a fountain of fire and purple blood through the top of her head, and her body tumbling lifeless to the floor.

After watching Jium just blow her own brains out, Saren began to sharply turn, eyes dashing back and forth around him. The shadows began to march towards him, closing in closer and closer. The only sound he could hear was his raging heartbeat, his breath, the sound of his feet, and Redann's screaming which had long since turned into maniacal laughter. Suddenly, a red light source turned on behind him, and he whipped around to face the new threat, machine pistol at the ready. He trembled at the sight before him, now truly lost in the bowls of the foreign ship.

 _"Hello, Saren Arterius. I've been wishing to speak with you."_


	12. Chapter 12: Ruthless

(A/N): I hope you're all having a great Holiday Season so far, and I'm honestly excited to see what goes horribly wrong just right at New Year's. On the other hand, I can't wait to see what goes horribly wrong in 2017 as a whole (hey, reverse psychology, saying Andromeda will be bad may provide better chances of it being good because Murphy's Law). Sorry this is a long one, but this really is an important chapter in the series, so hang with me here.

Chapter 12: Ruthless

 _I've been known by many names. The Wolf, the White and Red Terror, Abomination (by Krogan), all signifying some level of terror amongst those I meet. Nice to know I'll be adding another to that list: the Butcher of Torfan. I honestly didn't know what they expected of me when the Alliance had asked me to lead their men down to that miserable rock. Did they not order me to kill for the sake of their own safety? Why show distaste towards my actions when the community has openly showed their disapproval for everything Batarian culture is and stands for? Why should I even be motivated to fight for any given cause if the public will always respond by spitting on what is left of my reputation?_

* * *

 **Dec 30, 2177**

 **16 hrs/03 min/33 sec**

 **Alliance HQ, Rio de Janeiro**

He continued to watch his biotic trainees practice below. He'd given the pairs of soldiers bottle-rockets to launch at each other for the other to fling back around. "If you can throw around fireworks, you can throw around RPGs and Thresher spittle. This is a skill which has saved my neck more times than I'd like to admit," he'd told them as he demonstrated. It required reflexes and reaction time much higher than most people were capable of achieving, but there were a few who could manage naturally. Those who couldn't were given the opportunity to receive neuro-enhancements he'd ordered from Khonsu, giving them faster reaction time and more efficient biotic use.

He'd really been putting on the pressure within the last few months in terms of his training. The invasion of Torfan had been planned for the first week after New Year's, and grace period was swiftly drawing to a close. Everyone could feel the air of being prepared, yet uncertain as to whether they will survive. Gradually, Alliance intelligence had been gathering numbers on the opposition, and the sheer numbers were only increasing the sense of fear. Fredrick had experience his fair share of risky missions, but he was dreading the inevitability of having to drive a M35 Mako. Nolan's rant cycled through his head every time the vehicle was so much as mentioned.

 _"Divisions Alpha through Gamma, please report to the docks with your equipment. Units Alpha through Gamma, please report to the docks. Officers are to report to the conference room,"_ the intercom finally spoke. Fredrick watched as the soldiers below began to file out to the locker room to suit up before turning to leave. The time had come, and he'd done everything to prepare both the men under his command, and himself. _"Nothing to fear,"_ he thought to himself as he entered once more the double doors to sit down at the conference table. This time, there were significantly more officers actually present compared to those projected via hologram, Hackett included.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, take your seats. We still have plenty of matters before we start this operation," Hackett spoke up, catching everyone's attention. The few who still stood sat down and looked silently and sternly at the admiral. "I'm not going to lie, we're asking undeserving men and women to throw their lives into a hornets' nest, something I'm sure none of you want to be called responsible for. As much as we may want to believe that we're prepared and will win this fight." A wave of whispers and shuffles rippled throughout the room like waves in a still pond after a raindrop hit the surface. "But I can assure you for ever life lost on Torfan, one thousand will live on in peace throughout our colonies. Not everyone will leave this without scars, but it will not be in vain. We may not have as much experience we'll need fighting the locals, but that's why the Terran Republic has once more granted us their best, Major Müller, to help lead the way. The forces we'll be putting into this effort will be stationed on Arcturus Station, one to go with Majors Müller and Kyle, and one to stay behind should the initial push fail. Due to more accurate statistics gathered, we've tripled the number of marines going into this fight for a total of six thousand initial and six thousand in reserve. Majors, on behalf of everyone here, we apologize for being unable to devote any more men to this mission."

Fredrick and Kyle both nodded before the former said, "We understand, admiral. We and the men behind us are prepared to do our duty."

Hackett sighed before taking a long stare at the two and saying, "God bless you."

* * *

 **Jan 02, 2178**

 **19 hrs/00 min/12 sec**

 **Torfan orbit, SSV** _ **Einstein**_ **docking bay**

"Men, we've all survived the last year, and are beginning our journey into the next. Before us stands a clean slate, and we have no idea what is ahead of us," Fredrick started. It was barely half an hour after exiting the Relay, and already he was giving a speech to Alliance soldiers of various ranks and purpose. He knew that plenty of the soldiers would die before the day would end, so perhaps an adrenaline-filled speech would be a beneficial send-off. "All of us have someone on the line, someone praying for our success. We've lost plenty through the years until the one at our feet, and now the actions we take today are for their sake. Every shot, every grenade, every artillery shell, every skull caved in is not just those we've lost, but those who are still with us. Friends, families, wives, husbands, and children are looking to us to know they can sleep safely without fear of chains and slavery. They can live their lives knowing the ability to walk safely on the soil under their feet has been paid for. Regardless of what happens here, right now, they will remember us, every last one. I know we can pull this off. I've passed on my knowledge, I've taught you how to fight them, and I've seen how you are read for the living hell that is today, because tomorrow is a new day of a new year. Oorah!"

"OORAH!" the crowd of marines yelled before him.

As quickly as all of them filed into the hanger, they quickly poured out into gunships on a one-way trip to hell. Any thoughts he had prior were suddenly interrupted when a soldier approached him and saluted. "Müller? Major Müller, sir?"

He turned to face the blond, blue-eyed kid and responded, "How can I help you, private?"

"I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Timothy Weston. I first met you as a kid on the Citadel? During the riots of the 60s?" the private asked nervously.

"Timmy, of course I remember you," Fredrick said, reminiscing about the day he argued with the kid's father. "How'd you end up in the Alliance Marine Corps?" he asked as he walked towards a waiting gunship.

"Parents were Alliance, and I wanted to follow in their footsteps. I want to do them proud, it's just I'm feeling a bit nervous during this first major mission. I've never gone on something with nearly this scale of size," Timothy answered, not truly devoting himself towards his speech.

"Tim, look, I know this is your first time walking into hell, but this is for a lot of guys today. Additionally, you have me as your CO, so just stick close and you'll do fine," Fredrick tried to say assertively. If Fredrick were honest however, he was worried like hell for every last soldier that was following him to Torfan. The Alliance was giving him command of a lot of young, inexperienced soldiers who'd barely any experience with pure combat. While he'd done the same back in the Terran Military, he could at least rely on their physically superior capabilities and armor to keep them alive and give him more breathing room. The Alliance soldiers felt inferior, weaker, more susceptible to damage, and were overall a worse option for the upcoming fight.

"Well, it feels better hearing you say it," Timmy chuckled as the gunship lifted off.

 _"We are off the ground, ladies and gentlemen. We'll be on the ground in ETA five minutes,"_ the pilot stated as they left the _Einstein_. _"We may be encountering some AA fire, so mind the shakiness."_

It was halfway onto the hostile surface before the gunship began to shake with the explosions of AA rounds. "Pilot! How bad is it out there!"

 _"The LZs too hot! I can't make it through the heavy fire!"_ The gunship was sharply shaken by a direct impact, and the sound of a failing engine. _"We're hit! We're going in hard! Brace for impa-"_

The ship continued to violently shake as the ship tumbled from the impact. After the gunship came to a complete halt, he stood up, tore open the gunship door and began to bark orders. "We're a kilometer short of the LZ and heavily exposed. Keep low and move forward!" he gestured.

It was a mad dash over an open, rocky moon surface, dodging wildly as the rocks around them were dashed to dust by MG fire and artillery shells. One soldier was blown off his feet by an explosion and came crashing down off to his left, lying motionless before Timmy rushed over to his fallen comrade. "Man down! We've got a-" Timmy yelled just as an MG bolt punctured his head and blew his brains out the other side.

 _"Fuck. The mission has just barely stared, and shit has already hit the fan,"_ Fredrick thought to himself. "Don't stop for anything!" Fredrick yelled. "Keep moving, and get to cover, we're exposed out here!" Fredrick and his company continued to make a made dash to the base of a mountain to make their advance on the first pirate camp for the day. Just as the last few made it to cover, Fredrick started ordering to one of the older-looking soldiers. "Private Warren! Follow me up around the hill to take out those MG and artillery nests!"

As the remainder of the unit stayed behind to draw fire, the two quickly made their way out of the peripheral vision of the gunners and approached the bunkers from behind, gunning down a few stragglers and the artillery gunners before busting down the door into the bunker. He quickly ran in and proceeded to gut both of the heavy gunners. After exiting, he radioed the rest of the unit, telling him to meet them at the top of the hill. After everyone who was left successfully met up, Fredrick ordered, "Good work people, but our job isn't done yet. We're still getting shot out of the sky like wild game, and we can't move in until we get on those AA guns. While Warren takes the group to wipe out that the inner workings of this stronghold, the rest will follow me and neutralize the AA guns."

Fredrick kept moving up the mountain to reach the AA gun turrets, followed by three Alliance demolition experts. As they reached the top, three guns occupied the plateau, each with four crews to load and fire. Initiating his nanite shield, Fredrick charged with nothing but a particle knife, hacking and slashing open each of the Batarians like ripe fruit, or stomping them against the hard moon surface like insects. After clearing the area, he retracted his nanites and told the three soldiers, "go plant those charges, I'll cover you." Alone, he stood with his rifle as the trio planted explosives on the guns and ammo, eyes sweeping over the horrid display of Torfan. All around their position, he saw crashed gunships from the initial landing, facilities scattered all throughout, buildings lighting up like roman candles, countless corpses, and troops clashing with pirates in a mad, desperate fight with rocks, the butts of their rifles, and their bare hands.

After retreating from the mountaintop, the guns exploded with a spectacular display of fire. As he reached the bottom of the hill, he regrouped with what was left of his unit to plan their next move. "We're doing good, men. It was a rough start, but we're still on top." Regardless of what positive words he could say, he couldn't deny the somber looks across all the faces of his subordinates. Any sort of emotional momentum anyone had entering the moon's orbit was swiftly lost once they touched the ground. "We'll be moving northeast from our current position, and hit the next cluster of pirate strongholds in that area and keep sweeping around the north hemisphere and will continue onto the south if need be. Is that clear?"

The group simply nodded silently in between giving each other nervous glances.

"I know the out look is bad, but we can do this," Fredrick attempted to encourage. "Major Kyle, what's your status?" he asked over the intercom.

Silence.

"Major Kyle, do you read?" he asked again.

Once more, silence.

He grunted with annoyance as the group began to continue to northeast, catching the attention of a couple of Makos to get a ride on. " _Einstein_ , this is Major Müller, I no longer have contact with Major Kyle. What's his status?"

 _"Major, this is the_ Einstein _. Kyle has been retrieved, is currently experiencing severe traumatic shock, and will be out of commission for the remaining duration of the battle. Sorry major, but you're one your own. What are your orders to continue the fight in his stead?"_ Fredrick couldn't believe his ears. Major Kyle had just given up within less than a full hour after the fight had started. Quickly his shock turned to simple anger towards the Systems Alliance. They'd sent him and six thousand Human soldiers into a suicide mission with a secondary CO without so much as properly evaluating Kyle's mental strength, and now he was responsible for the lives of god-knows how may soldiers were left on Torfan. Worse, there was now way he could manage forces half a moon away. His mind went racing from the question presented before him before he came to a depressing solution.

"Send down all the forces devoted to this mission, including the reserves at Arcturus Station. I need them down here ASAP," he ordered.

 _"Major, we cannot abide that order. We were instructed to provide those troops if-"_ the _Einstein_ denied before Fredrick angrily interrupted.

"I came down here to get a job you asked me to do done! I'm alone, and too few good men with too little experience are down here in hell with me! I'm asking you to provide me with the necessary tools to get the job done and keep the pressure on to prevent the pirates on this rock from regrouping and kicking us out! I want all twelve thousand marines on this rock to finish the fight!" Fredrick ranted. The Alliance sent him here to die, so he was going to do so with twelve thousand kids by his side.

 _"Understood, major. Reinforcements will arrive from Arcturus Station in ETA two hundred and eighty minutes."_

Fredrick closed his eyes and gave an angry, painful huff of air, causing the soldiers to look at him with some minor panic. "Thank you, _Einstein_. Proceeding with the mission as planned."

* * *

 **Jan 03, 2178**

 **00 hrs/39 min/22 sec**

 **Torfan**

"You brought a flame thrower? I thought they didn't manufacture those things on Earth anymore," Fredrick asked a newly arrived soldier. A few hours had passed since the initial landing, and the additional six thousand reinforcements had landed. He placed about four thousand on the southern hemisphere to keep the pressure on down there, due to their lack of a CO.

"It's surprisingly helpful for fortifications and foliage on alien planets," the young man answered.

Fredrick shrugged and nodded. The soldier he was talking to had been under his training, so he held no doubts that the man knew what he was doing. "Good man, now let's see you put that fancy toy to good use."

The whole day had been occupied by going through stronghold after stronghold, grinding down pirate after pirate, and subsequently liberating the remaining slaves they held inside. It didn't matter how many the invasion had managed to save that day, the number of dead marines still pushed down on Fredrick's mind, emphasizing his feeling of betrayal from the Alliance. He'd have to personally visit Kyle once this shitstorm was done to get a better explanation.

The unit he had by his side currently had three Makos for troop transport and cover as they moved up on the final fortress within the northern hemisphere. "Warthog, this is Müller, concentrate fire on the southern-most wall, and keep pounding until you clear a hole for us to advance through. Keep advancing as you go and remember to swerve to avoid the artillery fire," he ordered to the Mako drivers.

 _"Understood, major. Rhino, Puma, move in, don't stand still for the artillery fire,"_ the Warthog driver responded. Fredrick and a few other soldiers huddled behind the Makos and jogged at a moderate pace under the cover of the tanks to hide from the MG fire from the bunker. The Makos continued to drill small holes in a single segment of wall, narrowly dodging shells raining down like asteroids. _"Puma, stick to formation. You're moving too far away,"_ Warthog ordered.

 _"Negative, Warthog. The artillery keeps pounding us. We can't re-."_ Puma went up into flames, and the troops taking cover behind it were thrown about.

"Dammit! Keep advancing on that wall!" Fredrick ordered, MG rounds whistling by. Warthog and Rhino quickly advanced on the wall, finally breaking through after firing HE round after HE round. Through the hole, the Makos rammed the remaining pieces of the wall, allowing the Alliance troops to pour in. "Warthog, Rhino, focus fire on those artillery guns. Alpha Company will take out the weapons garrison, Beta Company will head over to the warehouse towards the east, and Delta Company will follow me into the bunker. And someone get on the MG nest!"

The soldier from earlier dashed from cover to cover till he got close enough to launch a stream of fire into the bunker, prompting the inhabitants to scream with unimaginable pain. Those who did escape came crawling out of the bunker, fighting desperately to scrape the imminent death off their skin. "Save your ammo! Let the animals burn!" one of the soldiers exclaimed.

Fredrick couldn't help but pause for a brief second. Those were his own words coming out of a stranger's mouth. These men before him were men he trained to fight, and subsequently left with his taint. Once he's gone, will men like these represent his legacy? No matter, he retrieved a flamethrower from Warthog, planted an explosive charge on a reinforced bunker door, and detonated it. He made his way in, held the trigger, and rarely let go afterwards. Every last one wouldn't escape. Those who were foolish enough to poke their heads from cover were instantly incinerated, burnt out like rats carrying the plague. He hunted them down to every corner, over every chest-high wall, and into every last vent.

He checked every single room before finally approaching a last, little panic room. Stepping back once, he lunched forward, landing a solid punch right down the middle between the two components. Putting aside the flamethrower, he yanked the doors open, picked up the flamethrower, and walked in. With the flame at the end of his weapon, he could see the inhabitants of the panic room. It was once again filled with various Batarians, except they were unarmed, their armor was shot to hell, and even a few non-combatants were among them.

"Please! We surrender! We're unarmed, and have children! You have no right to fire at us!" one begged. No doubt some families were being transferred at the time of the attack.

Unfortunately for them, Fredrick wasn't looking for surrender, for justice, for negotiation, or prisoners. He was looking for an excuse to raze the moon to its rocky core.

"I beg to differ," Fredrick said. He pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **Jan 05, 2178**

 **09 hrs/06 min/13 sec**

 **Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream**

 _"Sir, we've got POWs here. Orders?"_ the soldier asked.

 _"What POWs, lieutenant?"_ the gravely, thick voice responded.

 _"We raided the facility, just as ordered. A few of the Batarians came out, with hands behind their head. They're staying down like told, should we have them transported back to the_ Einstein _?"_ the soldier explained.

 _"You're not answering my question, lieutenant. What POWs?"_ the deep voice asked again.

 _"Sir, I- I understand sir. Major's orders, open fire."_ The background rang with the sound thermal shots before the recording was cut off.

Fredrick, multiple Systems Alliance officers, and the projection of the Alliance Parliament was projected into a conference room on Arcturus Station.

The Prime Minister was shown to lean back in his seat, and rub his eyes with exasperation. "I see the problem. And what of Major Kyle?"

"Honorably discharged," Admiral Hackett explained. "He'd suffered extreme stress during the fight and wanted out. We're trying to administer him with treatment for now, but there's no saying how long it will take him to make a full recovery."

"And the death count?" the Prime Minister inquired further.

"Of the twelve thousand marines sent in total, less than two thousand made it back alive. No saying how many casualties were on that of the opposing force, the bodies are simply too mutilated to do a proper head-count," Hackett said, scrolling over a datapad.

The Alliance Parliament made noises of discomfort towards the answer. The Prime Minister then turned his attention towards Fredrick towards the center of the chamber on the station. "Major Müller, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Fredrick had been previously leaning in his seat, stuck in a thinking pose before straightening up to answer. "Allow me to answer with another question. What did you want me to do?"

The Prime Minister looked back with pure confusion. "Was your mission not to rid the Attican of the pirate threat?"

"And did I _not_ accomplish the mission?" Fredrick asked with rising anger.

The Minister's face had turned into annoyance. "What I'm worried about is-"

"I did what was fucking asked of me! I led the mission and saw to it the pirate threat was eradicated! I went into hell and made sure not a single fucking devil escaped! Was that not what you asked of me!" Fredrick stood up in his seat, threw the chair off into the shadows, and slammed his fists into the table in front of him, denting the table.

Prime Minister was now shaking with fear at Fredrick's words. "Now, I was just about to say that the death toll was unnecessarily h-." The Prime Minister was barely able to get off another complete sentence before Fredrick continued his rant.

"Why don't you look at the flaws of your own military's chain of command, Prime Minister? I was given undertrained soldiers! I was given a commanding officer unfit for duty! I was tossed into hell without so much as a plan as to what to do and how to do it! In case you weren't paying attention, I was the set up for blame! Not you! Not the Admiral! ME!" Fredrick let loose the rage he'd bottled up for the last few days in less than sixty seconds.

The Minister was now desperate to distract the raging soldier. "Now now, I understand you're angry, but we've have to remain focused on the political implications. The Hegemony will want justice for the lives taken on Torfan!"

Fredrick's sarcastic laughter filled the chamber. "There is no peace with the Batarians! Have you not heard of their public reputation? They've done nothing themselves but cause catastrophe after catastrophe, toeing the lines between neutrality and all-out war with other races! I see no reason why to show pity towards a race of inbred children!"

"ENOUGH!" Admiral Hackett exclaimed. "We're sorry we hadn't recognized the value of your services at the beginning of this meeting! We thank you for your assistance with this operation and we hope we can do likewise in the future! No issue to be seen here, gentlemen. Meeting adjourned," he said, gesturing to another officer to deactivate the holograms.

Fredrick angrily dashed past all the other shocked Alliance officers and made long strides to be the first to exit the conference chamber. He continued to ignore the haze of voices till he heard another one speak up. "Müller! Wait!" He turned around to be greeted by Captain Anderson.

"I don't know what else I could've done, captain. I'm sorry that the mission ended like it did," Fredrick answered somberly.

"Well, two things: first, I agree that you were given the wrong tools for the job. Secondly, friends can refer to each other by their first name," Anderson said calmly.

"Likewise. What's your opinion on the outcome of the battle?" Fredrick asked.

"If I were honest, I agree, you were asked to do too much with too little, and that the brass is giving you too much flak for things that were beyond your control." Anderson continued.

"It's good to know I have your support, David. It means a lot," he said with a smile.

Anderson's smile faded as he asked, "Now comes the matter of those POWs. Was it really necessary to kill everyone down there, Fredrick? Even the women and children?"

Fredrick was becoming increasingly sick of being asked about the moral implications of his line of work, but he knew that Anderson would agree. "Based on what you've seen of the Batarians, would you have thought to do anything differently?"

Anderson looked down, eyes weighed with guilt. "No, I wouldn't have."

Fredrick nodded solemnly before walking on. "Good to see you again, David."

* * *

(P.S.): Returning to the issue of "what if he was actually in-game," I decided it would be fitting that had the player not chosen the "ruthless" background that it would be given to Fredrick instead by default, and that if the "ruthless" background were chosen, maybe he'd be given something else (war hero, maybe?). Poor Timmy was to represent an "alternative" Shepard who just wasn't lucky.


	13. Chapter 13: One Closes, Another Opens

(A/N): Been trying to get this "arc" done before the end of the year, so I can begin to worry how to layer Fred into the original ME trilogy. Also, why do so many famous people have to die this year? Prince, Muhammad Ali, and now Carrie Fisher have all kicked the bucket. What a shame. They were good people. What rotten ways to die. Today, I'll be giving a short one to compensate for the length of the last one I produced. This will be brief for the sake of not having too many loose ends to tie up, and that this will be the chapter that feeds right into ME1. You'll see more clearly towards the end. As I start the arc of where Fredrick "would've" been introduced, I don't own Mass Effect. The franchise and its subsequent subtitles belong to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

Chapter 13: One Closes, Another Opens

 _These last few years have been especially grueling. The dead silence of nonexistent progress, the searing pressure of the Harvesters, and now the glaring eyes of the public keep me awake at night. Torfan had taken a greater toll than anticipated, and I'm not even sure I can convince the public of the challenges ahead of us. More recently, I've become increasingly worried about Saren's lack of communication. I know I told him that radio silence may be warranted, but what would require five years' silence?_

* * *

 **Jan 29, 2183**

 **07 hrs/20 min/13 sec Local Time**

 **TMSD** _ **Persistence**_ **, officer washrooms**

He rinsed his face in the sink, rinsing off the residue shaving gel and looked at the reflection in the mirror. Like the man he was based upon, he had an angular, watermelon-seed shaped head, Caucasian, an angled nose like a beak, pitch-black hair, a thin mustache, and short black hair with a cowlick on the front. Unlike his predecessor, his synthetic eyes were lime green, and small wrinkles dotted his face, regardless of his young look. He waved his mechanical hand through his hair applying hair gel to force his hair back into a uniform, slicked back curve. Walking back to his bunk, Fredrick put on his officer uniform and walked to the bridge.

Within the last year, there have been increasing rumors and sightings of Geth units beyond the Perseus Veil. He first took notice of their movements when a Volus trader with some interesting loot never showed up for the trade. A week later after investigating showed his ship damaged and derelict, the crew massacred, and the cargo gone. Since then, he'd managed to catch the synthetics pillaging mines within their corner of the Terminus System, specifically mines that had recently reported retrieving Prothean tech. For the past few months, he'd been scrambling to catch them in the act, or find any possible correlation between their actions and the Harvesters, and had only just recently found a possible breakthrough.

Twelve hours ago, a Quarian vessel called the _Honorata_ and piloted by Keenah'Breizh had contacted him with a proposition. En route to Illium, the group had investigated a detachment of Geth on an unidentified ice planet and made off with the memory core of a downed Geth unit. Arriving to trade for said files, all he found were bodies and a detachment of mercenaries. After clearing out the remaining mercs, he dug through any personal data caches they had for the possible whereabouts of the survivors. After some thorough research, he discovered that they had managed to place a tracker on a trade ship bound for the Citadel Station.

Back on the _Persistence_ back to the Citadel in hot pursuit of the ship, Fredrick was desperate to get ahold of the Quarian who carried those files. He entered the bridge and approached Commander Burke, saluting, "Sir, how should I approach the search operation on the station?"

Straightening up, the commander sighed, "I hate lying, but I felt that I had to break my own rules for just once. I've convinced C-Sec there's a dangerous terrorist loose on the station, and they're preventing anyone from leaving until we say we've apprehended the target. In the mean time, you will be leading the search operation through the Zakera Ward. I've already got a few other divisions on their way to sweep the other arms of the station. First priority is the trade ship the Quarian survivors boarded to get to the Citadel. If there are any hints as to where the Quarians may have gone, it's there. Just remember to avoid harming the Quarians or the data, so no EMPs or frags."

"Understood sir. I'll get my new armor on, and squad up." Fredrick turned around to head to the armory. With the arrival of Geth and subsequently an abundance of plasma-based weaponry, armor plates with a new and improved element composition were distributed to now include resistance to Plasma rounds. Naturally, he kept the white and maroon markings so distinct to his character. Walking in and stripping off his officer uniform, he pulled the new suit out, taking a moment to observe its sleek exterior before putting it on.

He stepped out of the armory, having a sense of strength and power as he felt the plates shift around over his body. The fourth generation of Terran Combat Armor was much sleeker than it's predecessor variants, and was stronger without greatly sacrificing the comfort factor. Its filters were more efficient, the air could be recycled for a full thirty-six hours, the battery charger took less time to maintain ammo count the pouches could hold additional supplies, and the additional barriers were the finest produced yet. Finally, it was topped off with a classic custom white and maroon paint scheme.

He stopped for a moment and pulled a small object out of one of the front pouches. It was a set of dog tags labeled, "Alison Noel," with a small, silver wedding ring on the chain. He stood there in the hall for a few seconds and continued to contemplate the meaning of the tags' late owner. He shut his eyes, closed his fingers around the tags with the chain still dangling loose, and lightly nodding. He never could get around the pain of her being taken away, and would continue to haunt him for as long as he drew air. The clump of metal and stone would continue to provide the universal flavors of bitter and sweet every time he brought them.

Unfortunately, the tags served as a double-edged sword. They dug into his flesh, agitating his festering wounds like rusted metal on bare skin, but they also kept his mind on one goal in sight. The Harvesters will fall, regardless of how many die in the final race to bring their "eternal" darkness to an end.

* * *

 **Jan 30, 2183**

 **13 hrs/10 min/10 sec Local Time**

 **Zakera Wards docks, Citadel Station**

"What do you mean, 'off limits'? I'm pretty confident that C-Sec has informed you of the terrorist currently loose on the station, and we are asking to come aboard to possibly flush him out," Fredrick lied. He and three other Terran soldiers stood outside of the trade ship coming from Illium, and they were being told by an especially talkative Turian to shove off.

"You heard me! I have rights! You can't just come barging onto my ship and look for shit! You come up to me without so much as a warrant or description of who you're looking for, and you expect me to open up _my_ trading ship?" the Turian argued. Fredrick noticed from his biometrics, the ship "owner" was feeling awfully nervous.

"And you want to risk the bastard escaping? Besides, where's your ship registration and license?" Fredrick returned.

"I- why are you going after me? What the hell have I done?" the Turian asked, barely able to hide the nervous screech produced by his subharmonics.

That was the kicker. "Ugh. Sorry, I have nowhere near the time or patience to deal with your complaints, imposter," Fredrick said as he leveled his rifle and popped a bolt right between the Turian's brow-plates, disintegrating the Turian's head. Walking aboard the ship, followed shortly by his unit, they entered the trader ship, only to be bombarded by gunfire from Turian and Salarian mercenaries. "Smoke out!" Fredrick exclaimed as he tossed a smoke grenade into the mix. The team charged in, popping rounds into the mercenaries amidst their confusion. As the smoke cleared, it revealed the complete bloodshed left by the mercenaries. Unfortunately, the traders had been slaughtered, and their killers were right in the middle of cleaning up.

 _Major, what's the status on the trader team?_ Commander Burke asked.

"No good, commander. I've just approached what's left of their ship, and whoever hired these mercenaries left no time executing the traders. I'm looking over the captain's log, and it looks like the now lone Quarian escaped before her pursuers arrived," he answered as he scrolled through a screen on the bridge.

 _Keep up the search, and don't stop until you find a sign these bastards got what they came for. Burke out._

Frustrated, Fredrick walked over to the mercenary leader's corpse and prodded what was left of the omnitool. "Private, see what you can do about this omnitool. If you can get us a way to gain access to the other unit locations on the Citadel, we just might be able to piggyback on their find," he ordered the team engineer.

He and one other soldier stood outside, keeping watch for signs of anyone approaching their location. The two other soldiers walked out successfully, grinning at their success. "Sir, we've got a possible fix on the location of the second team. Unfortunately, their employer has kept his contact information and identification well encrypted, and will take me some time to work out."

"Take your time. Anyways, where are they right now?" he asked the engineer.

"Opposite end of the ward, towards the Presidium." The engineer pulled up a map on his omnitool, showing a colorful blip on the miniature representation of the Citadel Station.

"Good work, soldier. Everyone, move out." The team made their way back to the gunship they had arrived on, moving in on the source of the scent.

* * *

 **15 hrs/14 min/59 sec**

 **Zakera Ward, Section A**

"Try again, see if you can get anything," he ordered.

"Still nothing, sir," the engineer reported after a few more taps. Unfortunately, the other team had caught on all too quickly that the other team had fallen, and subsequently switched the communication frequencies they used. While they had a general idea of where to look, and I means of identifying the mercenary team, the surgical, tactical pursuit had turned into a wild goose chase, and his unit had spent the last couple of hours searching every level, building, and corner for Quarians and the mercenary team. All other search teams had been diverted into this section of Zakera Ward to accelerate the search process. The part of the station was now crawling with Terran Marine squads.

"We know they're here. Keep looking," he said, eyeing the other squads. After a quick role-call it was revealed none of the other search parties had any luck with the search.

"Perhaps we should contact a Shadow Broker agent? There are plenty of agents present on the Citadel Station, no doubt we could ask at some minor cost," another soldier asked.

Fredrick shifted uncomfortably at the proposition. "Corporal, I'm not willing to commit any risk towards actively trading with a well-known criminal organization, regardless of how many Specters use the system. I've got enough shit on my name as is."

 _Müller, it's Burke. I just got word there was an assault over at a small medical clinic in your general location under the ownership of a Dr. Chloe Michel. Details are sketchy at most, and you're the closest unit to the site. C-Sec is on it, but I want you to check it out before they remove any crucial evidence,_ the commander ordered.

"Copy that. There's been unusual activity at a med clinic, gents. Let's go." The group got onto an elevator and rode down to the markets. Fredrick became lost in thought as the elevator ride dragged on. _"The most advanced, synthetic race in existence, and the Harvesters are incapable of designing an elevator that goes faster than five meters an hour."_ The group stepped out of the elevator and began their approach to the clinic, now surrounded by a few C-Sec officers. He was about to initiate his investigation when his eye was caught on a group of armored mercenaries. The team consisted of four Salarians and a Turian with a facial marking he'd only ever seen either in the Terminus or criminal circles on the Citadel. The group disappeared into some back door leading to the back alleys.

"Sir, the med clinic is up ahead. Should we proceed?" the engineer asked.

"Just one moment, follow me. I just saw something, stick close," he said as he walked towards the door, drawing out his rifle.

"Sir? What's going on?" the fourth asked, walking shortly behind as he drew his own weapon. Opening the door, the group encountered a short corridor leading to an elevator, and a side door. The elevator hadn't been touched, so Fredrick deduced that the mercenaries entered the side door. He opened the door to reveal a darkly lit walkway to the more drab parts of the station's underworld.

Down below was the group of mercenaries, and the Turian was conversing with a young Quarian female in purple. On the other side of the corridor, another small team was approaching, two Human females, a Turian, and a Krogan. Taking cover, Fredrick pulled a stun grenade from his belt, ordering, "Prepare to enter on my mark, and be careful not to shoot the Quarian."

He suddenly heard a small explosion and saw the Quarian run as two of the Salarians went flying. "Shit!" Fredrick exclaimed as he lobbed the stun grenade in without second thought. After hearing a loud crackle, he entered and pulled up a biotic barrier. "Move in! Secure the Quarian!" While the remaining mercenaries were still recovering from the two blasts, he and his team quickly advanced, eliminating remaining resistance.

After executing the mercenaries, Fredrick immediately went to his intercom to report the success of his mission. "Commander, call off the search and lockdown, the package has been secured. I repeat, the package has been secured," he told Burke via telecom.

 _Good work, I'll be calling back all forces. You know the drill,_ Burke responded.

"Yes sir. Müller out." Just as he ended the call and approached the Quarian, one of the Human soldiers called him.

"Hey! What the hell? I had this under control!" Fredrick turned to face the source to see a now adult Linda Shepard, wearing her distinctive N7 armor he'd seen so many times on news flicks. Standing next to her was a short, brown eyed, black hair woman wearing white and hot pink armor. From genetic scans, he could see some minor connections to General Williams, which he'd met so many years before. The Turian had the same markings, armor, and genes as Julianos Vakarian, except much younger than what the old officer would be currently. Finally, his eyes once again fell on the ever-faithful Urdnot Wrex, once again wearing pure crimson Krogan armor.

Fredrick holstered his rifle and approached the now _Commander_ Linda Shepard at his feet. He didn't care he'd just gotten on her bad side right off the bat after searching for the Quarian beside her. However, it would prove to be beneficial to act kinder if Shepard was really going to play a pivotal part in his life. Making a friendly gesture, he asked, "Commander Shepard I presume?"

* * *

(P.S.): I know that Fred's introduction seems rather forced and coincidental, but then again, same goes for just about all the other characters that are added to Shepard's party. All events play out just right for the characters to meet each other, for example Shepard arrives in time to save Ashley on Eden Prime, arrives at the med clinic to meet with Garrus as he takes down the mercs, Wrex is still being held up by C-Sec bullshit, Tali was just about to be picked up by Saren's mercenaries, and Liara doesn't die or starve no matter how long you take to get to Therum.


End file.
